Something Familiar Classic
by genericdarklord
Summary: The original version of Something Familiar. Very heavy on crack, lighter on plot. This is no longer being updated and most of the good stuff will be in the rewrite anyway. I suggest you read that instead, unless you're impatient and really, really want to see an ice-skating ninja narwhal be suplexed into oblivion by a child. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about the crack.
1. The Twin Twin Terrors

Something Familiar

Chapter 1: "The Twin Twin Terrors"

AKA: "Foxy Ladies

* * *

Foreword

Okay, I'm going to give you fair warning here:

 **You might not want to read this.**

That's in bold because it's important. I tell people not to ready my author's notes all the time, yet they still do. Clearly people have a hard time with the phrase "Don't read this," so I'm hoping the bold type makes it a bit more effective.

Yeah, I'm talking to you. You know who you are.

This story is in the process of being rewritten. While I'm trying to ensure the rewrite is still interesting for people who have read this, there's going to be a fair amount of regurgitated material. It is a rewrite, after all.

Hell, I might just CTRL+C CTRL+V entire chunks if I'm feeling lazy.

So, you've had your fair warning. Go ahead and read this if you want. People have told me it's pretty decent, but I have good reason to question their taste in literature. If you don't understand what that reason is, most of this story is probably going to go over your head. Considering it's 90% bathroom humor and crude sexual innuendo, that's pretty sad.

So go ahead and read it if you want.

Just don't cry when you see some of the same crap again.

* * *

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise as he emerged onto Platform 9 3/4.

It had actually happened. He had run through the barrier like it wasn't even there. It may as well have been empty air as far as Harry was concerned. He turned to look at the concrete wall he had just run through, and his mouth fell open even wider.

From this side the barrier wasn't there.

There was a wrought-iron archway behind him. Set in the top of the arch were the words, "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters." On the other side of the arch, he could see back into the station proper. Businessmen and travelers were simply passing by, completely oblivious to the platform behind the not-wall. He could see every one of them, but none of them even knew he was there. It was amazing! He could-

He could see a young redhead charging the arch, eyes closed as he pushed his loaded trolley with all his might. It was as if he intended to charge through the barrier by virtue of sheer force. He didn't even seem to notice when he crossed into the platform. Far from slowing, he continued to pick up speed despite being past the barrier. His eyes were still closed. He was headed straight for Harry.

What kind of an idiot runs around with their eyes shut? Harry wondered. He supposed he should try to get out of the way, but he had spent too long looking around. Any chance he had to avoid the eleven-year-old engine of destruction was long gone. He was moving far too fast to avoid. It was painfully obvious that Harry was doomed to take a high-speed trunk to the face. It was probably going to hurt quite a bit.

Luckily, he never found out. A pair of hands grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. At the same time, a second pair of hands yanked his trunk in the other direction. The one man stampede thundered by, eyes still closed, man and trolley combined into a single unstoppable engine of destruction.

Then the unstoppable engine of destruction stopped.

Watching in fascination, Harry wondered how unlucky a person would have to be to be passing at just that moment. And the worst part? He definitely saw it coming.

The blonde's head turned at the sound of the approaching trolley. Harry vaguely recognized him as the boy with the arrogant sneer from Madam Malkin's. But now the sneer was gone, replaced with a look of shock and horror.

The unstoppable force met the immovable object. The trolleys collided, red's flying into the air with a shower of splinters bursting from a shattered corner. The blond's was driven back, jutting off the trolley and catching him in the crotch and stomach. His eyes bulged in an extremely comical manner. The trunk continued forward, the blonde's mass not nearly sufficient to stop it, and drove him to the ground.

The redhead was pitched over his cart, the force of the collision flipping him over the handle. He shot straight towards the blonde's trolley like an oversized bullet. There was a meaty thud as his face hit the handle. Harry couldn't help but note that the noise had an oddly hollow sound to it. The human projectile continued to follow his low ballistic arc. His close encounter with the trolley had set him spinning, turning him into a sort of flailing human shuriken. He arced rather ungracefully through the air. A girlish shriek echoed across the platform. Then gravity finally defeated momentum and the redhead came down.

He came down face first.

He came down lips first.

On the blond.

Their lips met, driven together by the almighty will of gravity. Horrified screams fought to emerge from their lips. They were muffled, but they could be heard clear across the station. The redhead yanked his head back, and shout to scream something.

At this point gravity decided prove its dominance once again. The blond's trunk came down square on the back of redhead's skull. It drove him back down, slamming him into the blonde's waiting lips.

The trunk tilted to the side and hit the station floor with a thud. The two boys were left lying there, lips still pressed together and completely unconscious.

"Awesome..."

Harry turned at the voice. It was one of the boys who went through the barrier before him. Red hair, lean build and freckles; Harry would bet his wand that he was related to the kamikaze student. They even had the same shabby robes, though they were in slightly better shape.

He was also wearing a fur draped around his neck.

The robes Harry could handle. The strange colors, frills and poofs that wizards seemed to favor were a bit harder to swallow. Turbans? Yeah, that was quite a bit odder. Especially when they were stuffed with garlic.

But, for some reason, the sight of a teenage boy wearing a gorgeous fur was tripping Harry's "What The Hell" reflex in a way that walking through a concrete wall hadn't.

"That has got to be-" the boy said.

"-the coolest thing-"

Harry spun around. Apparently there were two of them. Identical twins, obviously, and this one was dragging Harry's trunk as he walked towards them.

He was also wearing a fur, Harry noted.

"-that we've ever seen!" they finished together.

Harry stared over his shoulder, then looked down at the hand that was still loosely gripping his collar. "You pulled me out of the way..." he said. He was a little shell-shocked. Not because of the near miss, but because someone had done something to help him. No one cared enough to do something like that for him.

"Well we couldn't very well let you-"

"-get run down by our moron brother."

Harry stared blankly.

"Yes, I know, I know."

"It's hard to believe we're related, isn't it?"

"After all, I got all the good looks."

"You mean I got all the good looks."

"I'm afraid not, oh brother mine. Just look at the curve of my cheek!"

"Ah, but you have to take into account the set of my eyes, George!"

"But my freckles, Fred! See how they're the perfect distance apart?"

"Ah, but mine are at perfect geometric angles as defined by trans-spacial recursive geometric theory!"

They stared at each other for a moment.

"What? What the heck is that?"

"Honestly, brother, I have no idea. It just kind of popped into my head."

"Right. Anyway," the one on the left turned towards Harry. "I'm Weasley. Fred Weasley. I like my hand shaken, not stirred," he said, holding out his hand.

"And assuming I haven't missed a sudden dimensional transposition anomaly, I'm George Weasley," the other said, holding his hand out next to his brother's.

Fred glanced sideways at his brother. "You're saying some pretty strange things today, George."

".ezag sih htaeneb reffus mohw slatrom eht ot eoW .xonayhtA fo thgim eht erofeb reviuQ .sehcorppa hsiugna fo drol ehT"

Fred blinked. The opened his mouth to speak, paused, and blinked again. Finally he settled with, "Right..."

A dainty belch escaped George's lips. "Sorry, I think those eggs this morning were a bit off."

"You ate the eggs? I'd say they looked quite a lot more than 'a bit off', George."

For some reason Harry felt like he had just lost a few Sanity Points. He didn't know what those were, but he was pretty sure he had less than he'd started the day with. But that didn't really matter at the moment. This was his chance to finally make some friends. With an unsteady smile, he reached out and shook both their hands at the same time. "I'm Harry Potter."

The twins suddenly leaned forward, studying Harry's face from just a few inches away. "The Harry Potter?" they asked together.

"I... I think so," he stammered. "At least... I'm pretty sure there's only one of me... But then again, there's two of you, so I guess there could be more of me..."

Both twins stood up straight, laughing.

"Oh, this one's a winner Fred!"

"Indeed he is, George!"

"To think that of all people-"

"-we'd save Harry Potter-"

"-from certain doom-"

"-at the hands of our least-favorite sibling!"

"Ginny's going to be pretty upset mom wouldn't even take her through the barrier, Fred!"

"Indeed, George. She's sure to be jealous. Maybe we should get an autograph for her."

Harry frowned. "I'd... really rather not, if that's okay..." he said.

The twins gave him a pair of curious looks.

The younger boy continued, "It seems like everyone likes me for something I didn't even know I did..."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Everyone wants people to like them."

"But people don't like me," Harry insisted. "They've never even met me. How could they like me? They like the boy-who-lived, not me. I'd rather be just Harry."

Fred shrugged. It didn't really make much sense to him. But he didn't make much sense to most people, so he supposed it was fair. "Well then, Just Harry it is. Pleasure to meet you, Just Harry. I'm Fred. This is George."

"So pleased to make your acquaintance, Just Harry!" George added cheerfully.

Fred waved grandiosely before pointing at his fur. "This is Ru," he said. He pointed at the fur around his brother's neck and continued, "and that's Ri."

Harry stared. Then he stared some more. He looked up at George's face, then studied Fred's. They seemed serious. He stared at the furs one last time, just to be sure.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "You... named your furs?"

"Furs?" George asked, confused.

Fred frowned. "Err... brother... we're looking a bit limp there, aren't we?"

"Limp!? I'll have you know I was at full-mast just this-"

"Not you, idiot! Her!" Fred quickly interrupted.

"Now why would Ri be limp? She doesn't even have a..." he trailed off as he looked down at his fur. "Oh. Yes, I think I see the problem now..."

"Really? Because with all the time you've spent 'using the toilet' lately, it's a wonder you're not blind..."

Ignoring his brother, George slid the fur off his shoulders. He held it up in front of his face and gave it a considering look. A slight twitch of his hand sent it swinging. A stronger jerk sent it whipping around in a full circle. He gave it another long look, then turned to his brother and said, "I think she's asleep. She can't be asleep!"

Fred shrugged and gave his fur an experimental poke. Nothing happened. "I don't see why not." he said. "We'd sleep all day, if we could get away with it."

"Exactly! It's not fair!" George complained. "Why should we do all the work, while they sleep all day? Plus, they're making us look crazy."

Fred looked affronted. "But that's our job! No one makes us look crazy but us! It's our one true joy in life! The burning passion that gets us through the day! The one bright, shining light of joy in an endless, gray wasteland of discontent and badly overcooked steaks." he smirked. "Plus, it's kinda fun."

"Exactly! No one likes overcooked steaks!"

"Especially with cheap barbeque sauce! You've gotta spring for Sweet Baby Ray's!"

"Honey Mesquite or Original?"

"Smokey."

"Oh, of course! Smokey! What a fool I've been!"

"'tis alright, brother! There's always time for redemption!"

"Praise be to the sauce!" George screamed, dropping to his knees.

"Praise be to the beef!" Fred shouted as he joined his brother on the ground.

"Steak for the steak god!" they both roared, raising their hands to the sky.

Harry glanced around nervously. To his surprise, no one was really paying attention.

"Yeah, we do this sort of thing a lot." Fred said as he climbed to his feet. "Mother would be so disappointed in us."

George stood next to his brother and gave an exaggerated sigh. "I think mother's already disappointed in us brother."

"What makes you say, that?"

"Well, she was just telling us how disappointed she was. I think she may have been hinting at something."

"I'm not sure. I think that level of subtlety is just beyond my comprehension."

"Still, the lack of reaction is a bit disappointing. I think we may have jumped the shark."

"Umm... what shark?" Harry asked curiously.

"Sorry." George muttered. "I think those eggs've still got it out for me."

"Right. Not to change the subject, but I think it's time to change the subject," Fred proclaimed. "What were we talking about?"

Harry wordlessly pointed at the fur still dangling from George's hand.

"Right! Hey, lazy! Time to wake up!" he exclaimed, giving the fur a little shake. "If you don't wake up now, I'm sending you of to the glue factory!"

"That's horses, brother."

"Fine. I'll put you out to pasture!"

"Also horses."

"I'll put you up for stud!"

"Still horses. Also, that's a good thing."

"I'll send you to the coal mines!"

"Children."

George turned to glare at his brother. "Not funny, Fred. Not funny."

"I thought it was funny. Anyway, let's try this." Fred cleared his throat, and in a theatrically loud voice said, "Oh no, George! We don't have enough chocolate frogs for everybody! I think we should eat all these Chocolate Frogs ourselves!"

Catching on immediately, George responded, "But Fred! We should share these Chocolate Frogs! Surely it would be too cruel to eat these Chocolate Frogs ourselves!"

"You're right! These Chocolate Frogs are so good that I can't help myself!" Fred dramatically held his hand out to his brother. "Here! Take this chocolate frog in my hand before I eat it!"

Harry blinked. George blinked. Fred blinked.

Harry caught himself staring again. There was a small black and snow-white fox hanging from Fred's hand.

"Well, that worked a little too well, I'd say," George declared. Somehow Harry wasn't surprised to see an identical fox perched on his shoulder.

They were foxes. They were wearing live foxes like scarves. He thought dimly.

"That hurts, you know," Fred snapped at the fox.

The small creature opened its mouth and dropped to the ground. It looked around curiously, swishing its tail to and fro. Having surveyed its surroundings, it whirled around to stare at Fred expectantly.

"You do, of course, realize that there are no chocolate frogs?" muttered Fred. He was gingerly rubbing his hand.

The fox glared at him, its tail twitching in annoyance.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. This would've never happened if you weren't so lazy."

The fox continued to glare.

"Please, try not to weigh yourself down with pointless questions. How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? Where are my chocolate frogs?" He threw his arms open dramatically. "The world may never know!"

The fox glared even harder. Harry got the distinct impression that it was trying to fire lasers out of its eyes.

"Look, there's no chocolate frogs. It's as simple as that. If I had chocolate frogs, I'd share them with you. But I don't. Because there are no chocolate frogs. You could even say the Chocolate Frogs are a-"

"Don't drag an old nag outta the glue factory just so you can hit her a few more times. We have standards."

"Since when? Anyway... I'm sorry. I was just trying to make you get up."

The fox slumped to the ground. Its body went slack, its ears tilted back, its whiskers drooped and its tail stopped moving entirely. It looked absolutely pathetic. For a moment Harry forgot that foxes were potentially dangerous wild animals. He very badly wanted to give it a hug.

Fred stood firm. He was a man. He was a strong wizard. A placid pool. A mighty rock forever resisting the ebb and flow of the ocean.

He lasted 4.72 seconds.

"Fine. Look, I can probably bum some off the guys. And we've got some old experiments that we could probably sucker someone into buying. I'll get some frogs, okay?" he said with a deep sigh.

The fox was on its feet in an instant. One moment it was laying on the ground, one of the most pathetic sights Harry had ever seen. The next it was twining around Fred's ankles like a cat.

Harry watched in fascination. Is that how foxes act?

"Right! Now that Fred's been thoroughly pu-" The fox on his shoulders cuffed George upside the head. "Ah, now that Fred has been thoroughly whipped-" He paused and cringed a bit. A few seconds went by, but he went unpunished. "As I was saying, now that Fred's been thoroughly whi-"

SMACK

"Oh come on! Seriously, you just let me say it!"

Is that how foxes act?

A faint snickering caught his attention. Turning, he discovered that the noise wasn't coming from Fred, but the fox now sitting proudly on his head.

Is that how fox- You know what? Screw it.

"It looks like you're both pretty whipped," Harry muttered.

Two young wizards and two little foxes froze.

Harry realized what had happened. He didn't even really know where the words had come from. They had just kind of slipped out. It had been a horrible mistake. That sort of thing wasn't how you made friends, it was how you made people hate you. So much for his good first impression...

A strange look came over the other wizard's faces. Too quick for Harry to react, they longed forward. It looked like he had messed up even worse than he'd feared.

This is it. It's Dudley all over again.

A thin arm whipped around his neck, bending him over and holding him in a loose headlock. The twin holding him was enthusiastically rubbing his head. The other twin seemed to be thumping him on the back. It was a good, solid whack, but it wasn't painful at all.

And they were both laughing.

Harry was confused. He was very confused. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. People don't laugh when you say something like that to them. They don't give you a few good natured smacks. They beat you into the ground. They throw you down and stomp on you until you beg for mercy. They don't do... whatever this was.

"Did you hear that, Fred?" George spun about, hauling Harry around to face his brother.

Fred nodded sagely. "Indeed I did... err.. George? You seem to have a little something right around here." He pointed to his chest.

Looking down and stared at Harry. There was an expression of surprise on his face, as if he had no idea the other boy was there. "Why Harry, what ever are you doing down there? That's a very odd person for a place like you to be, you know!"

It was pretty much impossible to talk with your face shoved into someone's side, so Harry settled for weakly tapping George's arm a few times.

"Oh, how I bury my face in shame!" he exclaimed in mock horror. He released Harry to... well... bury his face in his hands. In shame, presumably."What was I thinking? Mother will be so ashamed?"

"Brother? Already ashamed, remember?"

"Right! Maternal shame and heart-breaking disappointment aside... Harry, allow us to introduce our familiars. This is Ri," George pointed to the fox that was somehow still sitting primly on his head. "and that's Ru."

Both foxes growled.

"George, are you daft? This is Ri and yours is Ru!"

The foxes growled again. The twins stared at them blankly, then exchanged confused looks.

"Ah, maybe they're both Ru?"

"No, I think they're both Ri..."

"Mine might be Bob..." SMACK! George took a paw to the face. Again. "Ow! Dammit, no claws!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he heard a voice yelling, "C-c-c-combo!". He tried to remember if he had eaten eggs for breakfast. The morning was such a blur of apprehension and excitement that he couldn't remember.

"Right, we're pretty sure we have some combination of Ri and Ru numbering anywhere between zero and two each. We might also have a B-" Fred winced as the fox at his feet looked up and growled. "-eautiful pair of foxes." he smoothly continued.

"Girls, say hello to Just Harr,." George gestured at the younger wizard. "Savior of the wizarding world! Slayer of the dark lord! Hero of 730,000 fanfiction stories! Taunter of British knights! Petter of kittens and feeder of puppies!"

"George... what's fanfiction?" Fred asked curiously.

"I... don't really know. It just kind of slipped out," George muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's gotta be the eggs again. I must have some sort of allergy."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how allergies w-"

"Meet Just Harry, girls!"

The fox on George's head launched through the air, landing neatly on Harry's right shoulder. The other fox shot towards his legs. It bounced and somehow managed to whirl up his body. He could feel its claws just barely pressing into his flesh as it climbed. Reaching the top of his chest, it neatly seated itself on the opposite side of his head.

Harry serenely decided that this was the weirdest day of his life. He was also glad the foxes were so small and light. This would have been uncomfortable otherwise.

"Um..." he began slowly. "Hello, some combination of Ri and /or Ru? I'm probably the Harry Potter. I might just be a Harry Potter, if there's another one around. Either way, I'm pleased to meet you."

George began laughing again. "Oh, I like this one! Can we keep him? Can we?"

"Now brother, you know what happened to the last first-year you abduct- took home..."

"In my defense, how was I supposed to know they had to eat?"

Both twins lowered their heads. "Tragic..." they intoned.

Harry cautiously raised a hand towards his right shoulder. He thought that petting a fox would be really cool, but wasn't sure if it was safe. The fox answered his question by shoving her face against his hand. She was very soft, which kind of surprised Harry. He thought foxes were supposed to have wiry fur. Maybe it was some kind of magic fox?

"They're very pretty." he said softly.

"Oh, he's smooth..." one of the twins muttered. Harry didn't know which one it was, but Harry was willing to bet he was smirking.

"Indeed he is. The ladies'll love this one." Yeah, they were definitely smirking.

Harry decided to ignore them.

Harry examined the fox leaning into his hand, marveling at how small and dainty she was. Harry had seen foxes a few times. His aunt occasionally liked to watch animal documentaries. Harry thought it was because she actually liked animals, but couldn't have one because Vernon thought they were all filthy beasts. Harry had always found that to be a bit odd. Vernon seemed just fine with his sister's dogs, and they were the very definition of 'filthy beast'.

Disgusting and violent. he thought, remembering the scars on his leg.

But this fox wasn't anything like the ones he had seen on TV. Even sitting on his shoulder, she barely came up to the top of his head. She actually fell a bit short if you didn't count her ears. Her body was covered in fur so soft it could almost be described as downy. Most her coat was a flawless onyx black. She had white markings on her face and the tips of her ears. Similar splotches of white covered her front paws. Her tail, like her body, was long and thin. It had a slight poof to it, just enough to give it a bit of volume. About two-thirds of the way down it suddenly changed from black to white.

He glanced the other way and thought, They must be twins too.

The fox on his other shoulder was an exact duplicate of the one he was petting. He could see how the twins would have trouble telling them apart. She even had the same silver eyes.

She was staring, Harry realized. She was staring at something very intently. Harry followed her gaze down.

She was staring at his free hand.

"Um... do you want me to pet you too?"

She nodded.

Harry decided that the word 'weird' didn't even describe today. He'd have to invent a new word just to describe how messed up the things that were happening to him were.

Vacso had a nice right to it.

Harry raised his other hand, reached across his chest and began rubbing the other fox on its head. He now had both arms raised, reaching around to the opposite shoulder. He couldn't see anything because his forearms were crossed in front of his eyes. His right elbow was digging uncomfortably into the crook of his left arm. His shoulders were quickly getting tired. His neck had just made an odd popping noise that didn't sound in the least bit healthy.

He was also suffering from mild indigestion, but he didn't think that was because of the foxes. It was more likely from dealing with the twins.

"Are you... umm... Ru?" he asked the fox on his right shoulder.

She shook her head.

"Then you're Ri?"

She nodded.

Turning to other fox (a somewhat awkward maneuver at this point), he queried, "Then you must be Ru, right?"

She turned and shoved her nose against his ear. It was wet and very, very cold. He gave a surprised squeak and nearly fell over.

"You could have just nodded!"

She very deliberately stuck her tongue out at him.

"Hey now!"

Harry started at the sudden shout. The twins, who had been discussing his future conquests (who was McGonagall, and why did Fred turn green?), were now staring at him intently.

"You can't just tell him!"

Both foxes flicked their tails. Ru stretched up to lean over Harry's hand and stuck her tongue out. She seemed to like doing that.

"That's not fair!" George whined. "You can't just tell him because he asked! You don't tell us! You always just whack us until we get it right! Half the time you run around and bounce all over each other to make it harder!"

"Uh... have we ever actually just asked?"

"What? Of course we have!"

"When?"

"We did just last... uh... there was that time we.. and then..."

There was a long pause. Harry shuffled uncomfortably.

"So..." he said, desperate to break the silence. "Why do you have foxes?"

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"As we said, they're our familiars!"

Harry thought for a moment. He thought really, really hard. From the way they said it, the word was important. If he asked about it, they'd probably think he was a moron. They'd probably hate him for being so stupid. They'd-

Screw it. This day had already been thoroughly vasco'd anyway.

"What's a familiar?"

Four pairs of eyes stared at him in shock.

"What do you mean, 'what's a familiar', Just Harry?" George cried.

Fred joined him. "Didn't they teach you anything?"

Even the fox twins were looking at him, heads tilted. Ru gave a faint whine.

Wonderful. I'm an idiot. Harry decided. "I was raised by muggles. I only just found out that I'm a wizard..."

"But they knew about the magical world, right?"

Harry nodded.

"And you don't know about something so important?"

Harry nodded again.

"Then what did they teach you?"

"Nothing, really. They didn't like magic very much," Harry muttered.

The twins looked at each other. The foxes looked at each other. The twins looked at the foxes. Ri looked at George. George looked at Ru. She looked at Fred. Fred looked back at George. George looked at Fred, Ri and Ru. They all returned the look. George looked at the Truth.

Harry was getting dizzy.

George burped again. It smelled like old eggs.

"But I like my limbs!" he exclaimed. "And my brother!"

Everyone else ignored him. Those eggs must have been seriously tainted.

"Look, Harry," Fred started gently, pushing his brother aside. The other boy was still seriously zoned out. Harry was pretty sure he was muttering about how the color purple tasted. "Familiars are very, very important. For most wizards, the only thing as important as their familiar is their soul mate."

Harry caught himself staring yet again. Fred was being serious. Very serious. All traces of mirth and mischief were gone from his voice. Harry had only known the twins for a few minutes, but the change was almost disturbing. It was like a rabid hyena kindly buying a starving man dinner.

"A familiar is linked to their wizard by the Familiar Bond. They are always faithful to their master. They will never hurt or betray them. They will always be there for them. They will always love them. No matter what happens in life, no matter how badly things go to hell, they will always be there."

Harry stared in wonder. His hands were shaking. His heart ached. This sounded exactly like what he wanted. This was what he was hoping for, but didn't really expect to find. Someone, something that would care about him. Sure, Fred and George had foxes, but they seemed like great companions. Better than most people Harry had met.

"Plus, they make great doormats!" Fred proclaimed, grinning.

The weight vanished from Harry's shoulders. Twin foxes were bounding through the air, furry monochrome bullets on a collision course with Fred's head.

Fred's eyes widened in horror. He began to raise his hands, desperate to defend himself. He screamed, "Not the fa-"

They slammed into his face. The two living missiles hit with incredible force, tilting him back and knocking him off his feet. Fred hit the ground hard, whirling mass of angry fangs and claws still attached to his face.

Harry watched in awe. How was it possible for such small, light creatures to lift a teenage boy off his feet? Actually, the real question was, "Is he alright?"

"Don't worry about it," George said. "This happens all the time. I'm pretty sure we've built up a resistance to facial disfigurement."

"Is that even possible?"

The older boy shrugged. "I sure hope so. If it's not... well, I guess some girls are into scars, right?" He stared at Harry's forehead. "Either way, I think you've got me beat."

Harry shuffled a bit. He hated it when people stared at his scar. Still, that wasn't important right now.

"Can anyone have a... familiar?" he asked hopefully.

"Are you kidding? Ack! That's my nose!" Fred yelled from the ground. "Every wizard has a – Ouch! Stay away from the eyes, you crazy bi- Agh! I need that ear!"

"Yeah... losing an ear would suck." George muttered. "What my brother is trying to say – protect your crotch, Fred – is that all wizards have familiars."

"Get away! Foxes don't eat nuts!"

Harry winced. Those teeth looked really sharp. "So, everyone has them?"

"Sure. Heck, just take a look around."

Harry did exactly that, and was left with his jaw hanging open. He had been so focused on the twins and their foxes that somehow he hadn't noticed.

Cats, dogs, mice, owls... they were everywhere. Almost everyone had some sort of animal close by. He saw a snake wrapped around a young boy's arm. Over there, a fat toad was peeking out of another boy's pocket. A boy with a tarantula on his head approached a group of girls on the other side of the platform. A large black bird launched towards the boy, causing him to dart to the side with a squawk. When he dodged, he slammed into an absolutely massive dog. The dog didn't even seem to notice. It just continued the push around a little Shih Tzu with its nose. The smaller dog looked like it was having a blast.

It was a zoo in here. Literally.

Harry turned back to the twins. Fred was on his feet again, a fox still hanging from his ear. The other was held tightly under his arm. "So, they're not all foxes? There's cats and dogs and stuff, too?"

"Yeah, and stuff that's none of the above," answered Fred. He was making a valiant attempt to pry open one fox's jaws without releasing the other. "It wouldn't make much sense for everyone to have the same familiar, would it?"

"Your familiar is based on... well.. you. No one's really sure how it works, but the spell calls them from... err... somewhere else. You get... something... suited to you," George seemed to be having a bit of trouble with words.

Harry looked back and forth between the twins. They seemed serious. "So basically, you use some spell that somehow summons something from somewhere?"

"Yes! Exactly!" Both twins exclaimed. Fred seemed to be having very little luck getting the fox off his ear. Harry was pretty sure it was the one they had called Ri.

"Um... okay..." Harry felt the headache coming back. "Is the spell hard to learn?"

"Nah. You don't really do the spell at all. It's ritual magic. No one really uses that sort of thing anymore, but I guess there's just no way to turn it into a normal spell. All you have to do is feed it some magic. The ritual does the rest," George explained. He was watching his brother wrestle with Ri, a look of amusement on his face.

He didn't seem to notice that Ru had slipped out from under the Fred's arm. She was quietly slinking to the side, moving around the twins in a wide circle.

"And do they all try to kill you?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Nah, only the awesome ones. You see anyone else trying to pry something off their ear?" Fred dropped his hands, apparently giving up. "Like I said, it's based on you. Dodge George."

George skipped to the side, narrowly avoiding Ru's pounce. At the same time, Fred ducked and twisted. The move sent Ri whipping around. The two foxes met in midair with a soft thump. Ru's momentum knocked her sister off Fred's ear and carried them both to the floor.

The foxes quickly rolled to their feet. George took up a position to Fred's left and braced himself. Fred cracked his knuckles menacingly, while Ri scraped her claws across the floor. Two sets of twins stared intently, waiting for the other pair to make the first move.

It was a classic Mexican standoff. Neither side could make a move without potentially exposing themselves. Neither side could back down without looking like pathetic wusses. Harry could practically hear the cheesy Western music in the background. It was so intense, he swore he could almost see a tumbleweed blowing across the platform.

Wait. That was a tumbleweed. There was an actual tumbleweed blowing across the train platform.

"You know, we could keep this up. You two could just keep on chewing on Fred's face until we had to board," one of the twins said conversationally.

"Hey! First of all, what the heck? Second of all, you're Fred!"

"I am not!"

"You are! Look, your ear's bleeding and everything!"

"'tis but a scratch. I've had worse."

"Well, if you're George, how did that happen?"

"Right. That's enough arguing about who chewed on who. All these questions about who deserves to get mauled are just clouding the issue. After all, all those terrible things you said about our beautiful familiars aren't really important right now."

The foxes growled softly. One was staring at George's face, the other at his crotch.

"You'll pay for this..." muttered George.

"The point is, giving Fred his just deserts doesn't benefit any of us."

"..."

"Why, even if you chewed both ears off his head," Fred raised a hand to his ear, coincidentally covering the shallow wound there. "it would hardly be punishment enough."

"Really? I mean... just... really?"

"And in the end, you'd be the ones to suffer. Because there'd be no Chocolate Frogs," Fred shook his head sadly.

The growls cut off. Both foxes froze, horrified looks on their faces.

"He's right, you know. He may be an utter bastard that deserves to be punched in the bollocks... He is an utter bastard that will be punched in the bollocks repeatedly in the very near future, but he's right."

Fred was starting to look a little nervous.

George gave his brother a sweet smile and continued. "If my brother were to suffer a catastrophic injury, if he were to suffer agonizing pain, he wouldn't be able to find you some frogs."

The other twin was starting to look a little pale. Harry wasn't sure exactly how that was possible, but they were.

"Now, when he suffers massive trauma to very sensitive parts, I'll be forced to look after him. He is my very dear brother, whom I would never try to sell out so I could avoid the consequences of my own actions. That of course means that I'll be so busy caring for my poor crippled brother that I won't be able to acquire some frogs."

George sighed sadly and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eyes. The foxes were giving Fred a very cold, annoyed look. Fred himself was slowly backing away from his brother with both hands over his crotch.

"So, wouldn't it be better calling it even? You got a few good bites in, and Fred will eventually suffer pain on a scale that can not be properly expressed in human language."

"Ah, George... about that..."

"Oh, calm down, Fred." George said, patting his brother on the shoulder reassuringly. "If you look at your whole life, something like that is bound to happen sooner or later. I'm just saying it's probably not going to be later."

"Um... yeah..."

"So I think calling this fight off is best for all parties involved. Except Fred. Agreed?"

The foxes turned toward each other, silently conferring.

The twins watched carefully. Their legs were slightly bent, their bodies poised for action. Fred was still shielding his crotch, though it wasn't obvious if he was trying to protect himself from the familiars or his brother at this point.

Ri and Ru came to an agreement. They turned and lunged forward so fast they were little more than white streaks. One of the small foxes leaped at Fred's leg, sinking her claws in and scrambling up to his shoulder. The other bounced off Harry's trunk, executed a perfect double flip with a half pike, and landed gracefully on George.

Fred's fox began carefully licking his injured ear.

Both of the wizard twins breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well," George said, "that ended well for almost everyone involved."

Fred warily eyed his brother as he stroked Ri's back. At least, she might have been Ri. It was equally possible that it was Ru. To be honest, Harry wasn't really clear on which fox belonged to which boy. He wasn't even sure the foxes belonged to the boys at all. It could have easily been the other way around.

Not that he was paying much attention. He was a little preoccupied.

"..." Harry said.

"What was that?" asked George.

"..." Harry repeated.

"Harry, you okay mate?" Fred asked, concerned.

Harry muttered something.

"What was that?"

"I think he said, 'tumbleweed'."

Fred looked around, quickly spotting the rolling bush. "Oh, so there is. What about it, Harry?"

Harry whined, "W-why?" It sounded pretty pathetic.

"Oh, I think I get it. Relax, Harry. There's a perfectly rational explanation."

"...?" Harry asked.

"Indeed. The train brings them in."

Harry's face appeared to be stuck in a horrifying half grimace. It was starting to freak the twins out, wizards and foxes alike.

"Uh... yeah..." Fred said in what he hoped was a comforting tone of voice. "See, sometimes tumbleweeds get stuck on the Express. Then it drags them along. When it gets to the station, they fall off. Then they kind of blow around, 'cuz that's what they do. See? Perfectly reasonable."

Harry blankly gazed through George. Not at him, through him. It was as if he was looking at something fifty feet behind George's face. The redheads were pretty sure that wasn't a good sign.

"...scotland..." Harry protested.

"What was that, Harry!"

"The train goes to Scotland."

"Yeah, that's right. Hogwarts is in Scotland. The train goes to Hogwarts. So the train goes to Scotland to get there," said Fred. He spoke very slowly, as if explaining something to a small child.

"THERE ARE NO TUMBLEWEEDS IN SCOTLAND!" Harry screamed. He slumped heavily to the ground. The poor kid. His reality check had just come back with the words "Insufficient Funds" stamped on it..

A bell rang, drowning out the sounds of the busy platform.

"Oh! Look at that! The boarding bell! Looks like we better get on the train, eh Fred?" George proclaimed, relief evident in his voice.

"Right you are! Come along, Harry!" responded Fred. He grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt and began dragging him towards the train.

"Don't worry, Harry! I've got your trunk!" exclaimed the other twin.

The twin headed for the train, dragging both Harry and his trolley in their wake. As they passed the crumpled forms of Ron and Draco, George suddenly stopped.

"Wait a minute George!" he shouted. "We can't just get on the train!"

"Why not? It's about to leave. And little Harry isn't looking too good. Might be best to get him somewhere he can have a good rest."

"Ron, George. We have a little brother, remember?"

"Unfortunately I do. And here I had just managed to forget," George frowned. "Don't worry about it. Mum will take care of it."

"She can't. She had do something, remember? She seemed to be pretty wound up about something. Didn't even come through the barrier... Something about a 'horrible abomination'..."

Molly stared at the frying pan, wand out and ready. The frying pan stared back. She silently swore that she would respect 'use by' dates in the future. It just wasn't worth the hassle to save a bit of money.

She lunged forward. The yellow and white mess in the frying pan screamed a battle-cry.

"Oh dear. I do seem to remember something of the sort. Yes, we'd better take care of them, hadn't we?" He gently set Harry on the ground and strode towards the comatose boys.

The second warning bell rang, prompting the twins to turn from their work. Fred quickly reclaimed Harry's trolley, while Fred tossed the small boy over his shoulder.

"Murgle," said Harry.

"Is... is he going to be okay?"

"I certainly hope so. I don't want to be responsible for breaking the boy-who-lived-and-defeated-the-dark-lord-but-went-nuts-because-he-saw-a-tumbleweed-and-is-now-drooling-on-my-back."

"Yes, I suppose that would be pretty bad for our reputation."

"Yes, we'd be the-horrible-redheaded-twins-who-broke-the-boy-who-li-"

"I'm pretty sure I get the idea. No need to drive the joke into the ground."

"Have you ever wondered why we like hyphens so much?"

"I always assumed it was because hyphens are just incredible. Everyone loves a good hyphen."

George shrugged. "Well, brother of mine, here's hoping for another entertaining year," He said cheerfully. He threw his free arm over his brother's shoulders.

"Indeed," Fred agreed. "Ah, George? You know that whole bit earlier? You do know I was just kidding around, right?"

"Of course! Why, what sort of a fool do you take me for?"

"So... you do realize that there's no need for any sort of embarrassing and potentially painful payback, right?"

"Oh, brother, sometimes you say the funniest things..."

The arm around Fred's neck tightened noticeably.

"The funniest things..." muttered George ominously

Retroactive Author's Note:

So, if you're reading this, you're probably new to the story. Thanks for giving it a shot. I hope you enjoy it.

If you're still kind of undecided after this chapter, I'd like to ask that you give me one more chapter to grab your attention. Looking back, I'd have to say this is the least entertaining of the lot. Not exactly the best way to start a story, I know, but going back and rewriting it just doesn't appeal to me at the moment.

For now, I've decided to go back and fix a bunch of errors I noticed after posting old chapters. I've also decided to add these notes to chapters that didn't already have them, for no apparent reason. I guess you should feel special, because people who already started the story didn't get to see this random drivel?

Anyway, if you're just starting and like it so far, I hope you enjoy the rest. The main intention here was to write something that was a mixture of semi-crack humor, serious business stuff and an actual plot. I'm proud to say that after 13 chapters and 100,000 words I'm finally getting to the meat of the plot. Between here and there is mainly a bunch of minor set up, some character-building and a lot of words that I really hope will make you laugh.

So, sit back and enjoy the show... story... whatever.

You don't even have to sit back if you don't want to. I won't make you.


	2. He is the Candyman

Something Familiar

Chapter 2: "He is the Candyman"

AKA:"Wizards Hate Their Children"

* * *

"What the heck should we do about this, Fred?"

Harry was giggling and mumbling incoherently. There was a faint trail of drool running down his cheek. His right eye was twitching every three and a half seconds. That same eye was watching Fred, intently following his every move. The other eye was staring blankly at the far wall.

His hand was moving, absently stroking the fox laying in his lap. George was pretty sure he was just doing it reflexively. He certainly didn't seem to know she was there. The second fox was lying on the back of his seat, tail curled protectively around his neck. Occasionally she'd turn and give his ear a little lick, eliciting a faint giggle from him.

"We could track down a prefect. I bet there's a few Ravenclaws that could help out here."

"Ha. Nothing the birdbrains like more than knowing something no one else does, then making sure everyone else knows it. This'll be all over the train before Harry wipes the drool off his chin."

"Right you are, brother. Lil' ol' Harry's gonna have enough trouble with that kinda stuff as it is."

"No need for anyone to know he went around the bend for a bit."

The two foxes nodded in agreement.

"The question remains: what should we do?"

"Should we hide him here until we get to Hogwarts? He might just snap out of it on the way."

"NARF!" Harry exclaimed, lifting the hand the that wasn't petting Ru high into the air. One eye continued to follow Fred, while the other locked onto George. The problem was that he was following each brother with the wrong eye. It gave him a bizarre cross-eyed look.

"Yes Harry, of course. Narf to you as well," Fred said soothingly. He nodded at George and the two quickly traded places. Harry's eyes followed them, uncrossing and staring more or less straight ahead.

"Be a shame if he doesn't the to enjoy the ride. When else do you get to do whatever the heck you want with no one to answer to?"  
"We answer to the prefects, Fred. Remember?"

The pair stared at each other for a long moment. George cracked first, giggling slightly. This set both of them off, and soon they were both laughing hysterically.

"We answer to the prefects!" Fred howled. "Oh Merlin, for a minute there I thought you were actually serious..."

"I can't believe I actually managed to say that with a straight face," George snickered.

"Anal Bum Cover for $400, Alex!" Harry yelled.

This immediately brought their laughter to an end. Fred sighed and shook his head. "Not even for that price, Harry," he muttered.

"Maybe we should just leave him like this. He did call us whipped," George chuckled. An intense shiver ran down his spine. He turned away from his brother and discovered both familiars staring at him intently. Their eyes held the promise of pain and bloodshed.

"He's kidding, of course," soothed Fred. He was making what he hoped was a placating gesture with his hands. "A firstie calling us whipped? That was pretty damn funny. "

George was slowly backing towards the door. "Yeah, imagine saying something like that to _us_. They're supposed to be peeing their pants in fear."

This seemed like enough to calm the foxes. They went back to soothing the disturbed boy. Ru, however, kept one eye on their human counterparts.

"We can't get help, we don't wanna leave him like this. What do we do?"

"Well, there is one thing I suppose we could try."

"And that is?"

"Bio-Dome!" Harry screamed.

"Exactly! We could swing both ways. Wait, what?"

"Viva~ los bio-dome!" Harry sang out.

"Look, like I just told Harry..."

"That's not what I was gonna say! Can we please skip the comedy routine until we fix the drooling madman?"

"That might be best. The foxes are looking a bit annoyed."

The madman declared, "Your _mom's_ a fox!"

"Sorry, Harry. You're a bit off base there."

"I don't think he can even see the base from where he's standing."

"That's probably because it ran screaming when it saw mum."

"And I'm guessing that was just first base. Imagine how third must feel..."

"Oh god! I just the thought of... " He made a gagging noise. It didn't sound faked.

"Don't go there. I was found in a cabbage patch. Mum and dad went for a nice picnic, then came around and dug me right up. Then they drove home with me in a little basket."

"Really? A stork delivered me. They picked me out of a catalog."

"Huh. Go figure."

"They're glaring at us again, aren't they."

"Not sure. Too afraid to look."

"We should really do something about this. I feel like I'm in serious danger of loosing my face."

"I like my face. Faces are good. Without my face, my head would just be a skull."

"We should probably fix Harry then," Fred stated. "So, how do we do that?"

George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, this is the same thing that happened to King, right? The muggleitosisitis thing?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not what it's actually called. Actually, I'm certain that isn't even close."

"Does it really matter what it's called?" George sighed. "You know what I mean. The weird freak-out thing that some of the muggleborn get."

Fred nodded. "Seems like. I can't think of another reason for a person to go all wonky over a perfectly normal tumbleweed. It wasn't even one of the singing ones."

"I guess it makes sense. Imagine if someone suddenly told you that up was down and down was a banana parfait. You'd probably go a little wonky."

"Yeah, I get that. But a tumbleweed?"

"Just the straw that broke the camel's back, I guess."

"You can't break a camel's back with a straw, George. Even if the straw was really big, it'd still be too light and floppy."

"No, brother, the camel isn't getting hit with the straw. He's carrying it."

"Well that's just silly. Why would a camel be carrying a straw? It's not like they can drink through them..."

"I don't think this is helping Harry at all, you know..."

"Don't be so sure, brother! What if we found a really big straw, then hit Harry with it!"

"..."

"Well?"

"I'm really ashamed to admit that I actually considered that for a moment..."  
"You did? Really?" Fred asked, sounding highly amused.

"Just shut it! Focus. What did we do when this happened to King?"

"We hit him."

"I swear to Merlin, if you say anything about a giant straw..."

"No. No giant straws. We just hit him."

"Oh, right. We spent our first night in the hospital wing having our hands fixed. Seriously, why would _you_ hit him after _I_ broke my hand?"

"I thought maybe you just didn't know how to punch someone. How was I supposed to know he just didn't know how to _be_ punched?"

"And despite our pain, it didn't seem to do any good. So we're back to square one."

Fred studied Harry thoughtfully. "Maybe not. I'm pretty sure King didn't even notice when we hit him. How can you shock someone out of their crazy if they don't even notice you?"

"So you're saying that it might work better with Harry..." George muttered.

"Maybe. Couldn't hurt to try."

"You know, I rather distinctly remember you saying that mere moments before my hand broke."  
"Well, I think we're pretty sure Harry's face isn't made out of bone-shattering pain."

"How sure is pretty sure?"

"I'd avoid using your 'using the toilet' hand, just in case."

The twins turned as one to examine Harry. At some point, probably around 'Anal Bum Cover', he had slid over sideways. He was now half lying on his side, with his bum on the seat and his feet still planted on the floor. Saying that it looked uncomfortable was a considerable understatement. Ri was sprawled out across him, while Ru was curled up in front of his stomach.

They were watching the twins. Neither fox looked very happy.

George gave a sickly little giggle. "Now girls... you know we're doing this for his own good..."

"We're just going to give him a little smack to fix... err... hopefully fix him," continued Fred.

Ru reached out and smacked Harry's face with her paw. It was a surprisingly powerful blow for a one pound quadruped. Unfortunately, that wasn't really saying much.

Harry giggled a little when the paw hit his face. The strike had not other effect.

"See? You should just let us-"

A small, furry cannonball launched upwards. It just barely brushed the ceiling at the top of its arc. The projectile unfolded as it fell, revealing Ri's tiny form. She plummeted straight down and smashed into Harry's face.

He giggled again.

"Yeah... It might be best if-"

The furry twins stood on their hind legs and began rapidly pummeling Harry with their paws.

"I'm pretty sure this is gonna be worse than just letting us belt him one!"

The foxes both turned to glare at George.

"Right. Carry on. We'll just be over here if you need us."

The furry twins grabbed the back of his collar. Digging their claws into the seat, they began hauling him upright. After several minutes of struggling they finally had him sitting again. Ru dug her feet into the seat and sank her fangs into his collar, preventing him from slumping over again. Ri, on the other hand, began running around the compartment. After the first few laps, she was going fast enough the she was changing direction by ricocheting off the walls.

"Fred, you don't think she's..."

"I'm pretty sure she is, George."

Ri hit the left wall, roughly level with Harry's head. She began to flex her legs.

"You should probably just let us-"

Ru released Harry. He began to tilt forward, pitching out of the seat. He hadn't even fallen a few inches when Ri struck. She blasted away from the wall at an impressive speed. Whirling around in midair, she slammed into the side of Harry's head with all four paws.

The impact lifted Harry clear off the bench and slammed the side of his head into the closed window. He slumped bonelessly across the seat, still giggling and mumbling.

" _Pretty_ birdies! Tweet tweet!" He tittered. "I _like_ pretty birdies!"

The foxes looked at their wizards with a complementary pair of sheepish looks.

"Okay... So... Now he's not just insane, you also managed to knock him senseless."

"At least he's not hitting on mum now," George muttered.

"Not only did that not work, but it was way worse than what we were gonna do," Fred said sternly. "When he asks about the paw-shaped bruises, I'm sending him straight to you."

"Yeah. We're supposed to give him a little shock, not take his head off his shoulders," George added.

Ri and Ru turned to examine each other. The twins knew there was some sort of silent communication going on, but they had yet to figure out a way to listen in on it. It drove them crazy. They did the same thing to other people, though, so it was nothing they didn't deserve.

Ru nodded, and both foxes started yanking the boy upright again.

"Hey now-" George started, only to be cut off by a hand on his shoulder.

"Take it easy George. I'm sure they know what they're doing. Maybe it'll work the second time."

"Fred..."

"No, no, I'm telling you, it's okay. It's not like he doesn't have another cheek."

"You're not just saying that because the look on his face was hilarious, are you?"

"Not at all. But it was pretty funny, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it really was. Maybe we should let them try again..."

They both settled in to watch the foxes. No one ever said hanging out with them was a healthy decision.

Finally propping Harry back up, the furry sisters hopped down onto his shoulders. They peered at each other over his head and began bobbing their heads in time.

"Are they counting?"

"Oh no... anything but that..."

The girls suddenly dropped down and shoved their noses into Harry's ears at the exact same time. There was an audible squishing sound as they violated the young wizard's auditory organs.

He let out a squeal like a wounded pig, shooting out of his seat. Both foxes were unceremoniously dumped to the floor. Harry hopped around while wildly rubbing at his ears for several seconds. Suddenly he stopped bouncing around, threw his head back and shouted, " _What the vasco!?_ " at the ceiling.

"So. He's back to normal...ish... I think..." George announced, not really seeming too sure about it.

Fred shook his head. "It's kinda scary this is 'normal' for him. To think that people say _we_ have issues."

"IKR..."

"What?"

"You deaf all of a sudden? I said, 'Yeah, you're right', didn't I? I was agreeing with you."

"That isn't what you said, George. You said something totally different."

"No I didn't."

"You did. You said, 'eyekayarr'. What the heck is an eyekayarr, George?"

Shaking his head, Harry looked around blearily. He had no idea where he was. It looked like some sort of room. With seats. It was definitely a room with seats. At least now he knew he wasn't in a room with no seats. He felt determining this was definitely an accomplishment. It wouldn't do to be in a room with no seats and think you were a room with seats. That would be very embarrassing.

The twins were standing on the other side of the room with seats. They seemed to be arguing about something. So he was in a room with seats and a pair of arguing twins. He was on a roll! All he had to do now was find some foxes. He felt he'd have a solid assessment of the situation, if only he could find some foxes. Two would be nice, but he wasn't feeling picky. Four and a half would be almost as good.

Ri scrambled up his chest, seating herself on his shoulder. Ru hoofed it (clawed it?) up his back and took up residence on the other side. Room with seats, arguing twins and foxes it was. Harry looked back and forth between them. He was pretty sure they were foxes. Around 87% sure, with a 93% margin for error. That meant he was three for... the number that was the same as three...

 _Score._ Harry though. _I should get a job as a forensic scientist. I could use my powers for good, and spend all day forensicing. I already have the glasses. No one would ever know I'm me._

The girls took note of Harry's unfocused, confused look. They exchanged concerned glances, then gave foxy shrugs. Two noses were pulled back in preparation.

"I'm telling you, I know what I heard. I'm starting to get worried over here."

"And _I'm_ telling _you_. I have no idea-"

" _Gyark! Why!?_ " Harry screamed, effectively ending the twins' argument. "What the where now?" He looked around in a panic. Fred and George were over by the door. The foxes were obviously on his shoulders. Either that, or some other creature with tiny, sharp claws had decided he was a good resting place. He was in a room that somehow gave the impression of being both large and small at the same time. There was a window to the side, scenery barreling along at a healthy clip. Metal racks up by the ceiling housed a trio of trunks. One of them was his. A long bench ran along the wall on each side of him. For some reason that realization filled him with pride.

"Guys... what happened?" he asked, a bit worried. He was pretty sure having no memory of how got somewhere was a bad sign

"Why, Harry..."

"..whatever do you mean?"

Harry glared at them. He knew he shouldn't. He knew that kind of attitude would brand him as the wrong sort, and then no one would want anything to do with him. But he just couldn't help himself. Something strange had happened. Considering that talking to the twins was the last thing he could remember, they probably what was going on.

They were probably responsible for this weird slimy feeling in his ears, too. He was going to have to take a shower as soon as possible.

"Something weird happened. What was it?" he demanded.

"I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about."

"Why would you say something weird happened?"

"Well, guys, the thing is... _I'm on a train,_ " Harry enunciated very clearly. "It's kind of funny. It just strikes me as a very odd place to be. See, I'm pretty sure I never got _on a train_."

"The Hogwarts Express is a magic train."

"Magic holds nearly limitless possibilities."

"It's hard to say what may or may not happen with magic."

"You may even suddenly find yourself on a train."

Harry wasn't buying it. "Guys. I. Am. On. A. Train."

George gave a polite golf clap. "Well spotted, Harrikins. Well spotted indeed."

"Yeah, it's good to see you're feeling bett-urk!" Fred managed to get most of an extremely incriminating sentence out before George elbowed him in the gut.

"Feeling better from what?" Harry asked blandly.

"Feeling better? What do you mean? Fred was simply glad you were feeling betturk!"

Fred was gingerly rubbing his stomach. "It's a wizard thing, Harry. We'll explain it some other time."

"No, I'd rather you explain now. Because I'm pretty sure _you_ were saying he was glad I felt better, and _he_ elbowed you for it."

"Look Harry, a mountain!" George announced, pointing out the window. "You've gotta see this, it's so cool!"

Harry scowled. "I've seen mountains on the telly. They don't look that interesting." There was no way they were going to distract him before he got some answers.

"But Harry, you've gotta see this! It has-"

Fred trailed off, his face white. George's mouth was hanging open. Ri's fur stood on end and Ru nearly fell off Harry. There was a group of tumbleweeds bouncing down the slope, headed for the train.

"Forget it, Harry. We were just trying to distract you."

The younger boy's brow furrowed. Did they really just admit to trying to distract him? Why would they do that? Unless... they actually didn't want him to look at the mountain. Clearly they were trying to distract him by distracting him and admiring to distracting him. The line of thinking was making his head hurt, but it still made sense. Maybe.

He began to turn.

Ri's tail whipped around his eyes, completely blinding him. At the same time, Ru launched off his shoulder and bounded off the far wall. She hit him in the chest like a small, furry sledgehammer, knocking him into a seat. George whipped out his wand and whispered a short incantation. A mass of black goo exploded from the end, covering almost the entire window. The shades were quickly whipped shut, courtesy of George. He made sure to press the curtains into the goo.

Harry lifted Ri off his face. He held her at arm's length, giving her a confused look. "What was that for?" he asked. The fox gave him an innocent look. "I didn't do anything to you! I was just trying to look out the..."

Harry stared at the mass of goo and fabric. He gave one of the curtains an experimental tug. It pulled out a little, but snapped right back into place the moment he let go. The black stuff was both very sticky and elastic.

Ri slipped out of his hand and hopped onto the back of the seat. She stared at the window in an overly curious manner, like she had never seen something like that before. Ru was giving Harry a blank look from the floor. He translated the look as, "Window? What window?" It was a fairly accurate interpretation.

"Oh, look. The window broke, Harry."

"Don't you hate it when that happens, Harry?"

"Always when you least expect it, Harry..."

"Too bad, that was a great mountain, Harry."

"It didn't break! It's covered in some sort of goo!" the boy snapped. "I can even see handprints where you pushed the curtain in!"

"Remember: nearly limitless possibilities, Harry."

"Magic has nearly limitless possibilities, Harry."

"That was a magic window, Harry."

"This is a magic train, Harry."

"So it makes sense for that to be a magic window, Harry."

"It'd be pretty odd if it wasn't, Harry."

"So the window held limitless possibilities, Harry."

"Because it was a magic window, Harry."

"Who's to say how a magic window might break, Harry."

"Can you really say it won't goo itself, Harry?"

"That's how I'd break if I were a window, Harry!"

"A magic window, Harry!"

"Everyone loves goo, Harry!"

"Seems pretty reasonable to me, Harry."

"You're just over-thinking it, Harry."

" _Stop!_ " Harry shouted. "Just stop. I don't even care anymore. Just stop saying my name. Just stop talking. I'm pretty sure my brain is trying to escape my head, and listening to you is making it worse."

Fred and George shared a glance as Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Fred nodded. Mission successful.

"This is the Hogwarts Express, right? Can you at least tell me that?"

Fred nodded. George shook his head. Fred smacked George. They both nodded.

"Well?" Harry asked. "Wait. Did you just nod?"

They nodded again.

"Right. I'll just assume you nodded." Harry said after a moment. "You do realize I can't see you with my eyes closed, right?"

Nod.

Harry groaned and rubbed his face. He paused, then began experimentally poking himself. Little, pained hisses escaped his lips at several points during the process. Finally, he seemed satisfied.

"I seem to have bruise. A bad one," He stated, staring at the twins. "Why do I have a bruise?"

"Are you sure?"

"You might not have a bruise."

Harry turned his head and pointed at his cheek. There were four small bruises there. They were already an impressive shade of bluish-purple. "I don't have a bruise here? Seriously?"

"You don't have _a_ bruise."

"We'd tell you if you had _a_ bruise."

Something about those statements seemed a bit off. Harry couldn't quite place his finger on it. It probably wasn't worth trying to wrangle it out of the twins. What he really needed now was some time to calm down.

The young boy frowned. Having the twins around wasn't exactly conducive to relaxing, but at least they wouldn't freak out over his scar. Somehow he doubted the other students would give him that courtesy.

Something touched Harry's leg. Ru was on her hind legs, touching his knee with her paw. He smiled that the little creature and held his hands out. When she didn't protest, he lifted her up and set her on his lap. Her tail gave a happy swish.

"You two are so sweet. How in the world did you get stuck with them." Harry asked.

Ru looked up at him with a strange expression on her face. She looked highly amused, as if she were privy to a joke that had just gone over his head. He got the distinct impression she was laughing at him.

"Ah, Harry, you do remember watching them try to eat my face, right?" remarked Fred.

"You deserved it. Didn't he?"

Ru nodded her head. Ri, still up on the back of the chair, did the same.

"See? You deserved it. You..." Harry trailed off. Something had just occurred to him.

"Ah, Harry?"

"You alright there?"

Harry looked at them and grinned. The grin was pure evil. It was almost feral, promising pain and horror to all that beheld it. Woe to any who fall within his sight, for surely the end is nigh. He would watch on without mercy, finding joy in the eternal suffering of his victims.

Fred and George would have been proud to call the boy brother, based on nothing other than that smile.

"Hey guys... Didn't you owe Ri and Ru some... what was it? Oh, yeah! Chocolate frogs, right?" Harry happily asked. If he couldn't go to another compartment, he'd just have to empty this one.

Some part of his mind wondered what the hell was going on. Harry had never acted like this before. If he had, he would have been punished for it severely. He had been shown again and again that there were consequences for having an attitude.

This wasn't the plan. The plan was to stay out of the way and quietly wait until he found someone he could get along with. The plan was _not_ to get all sarcastic and give people a hard time. Acting like that was sure to alienate everyone.

He somehow missed the fact that this was exactly how the twins acted towards each other.

The twins instantly froze. They both locked gazes with a fox, their eyes widening. The foxes stared back. They did not appear to be very amused.

"You know, it's almost like you were hoping your girls would forget about it. It seems like they were pretty distracted when _nothing_ happened." Harry said sweetly. He was still slowly stroking the fox laying in his lap. He look like an evil mastermind explaining his grand plan to a hero.

The fox in his lap was still calmly sprawled on her side, but her tail was now lashing in agitation. Harry could hear the faint sound of fabric being torn. Peering out from behind his head, Ri was slowly dragging her claws into the back of the seat.

"Not that I think you would _deliberately_ try to deny them the Chocolate Frogs you promised them. You must have been so surprised when the window _broke_ that you forgot."

 _You can stop any time now, mouth!_ Harry's brain yelled. _It's not too late to apologize!_

The twins stared.

"Well played, Harry..." George muttered. Louder, he declared, "Well then, we'll just go find some frogs! Shall we, brother?"

"Why yes, brother. We shall. We may have to sell our bodies, perhaps our very souls, to get them. But we go on, regardless!"

"Yes! Humiliation and physical defilement await!" George cheerfully chirped. He looked at the foxes. There was no compassion in their eyes. His gaze drifted to Harry, who was still wearing an evil grin. Clearly there would be no help from that corner.

There was a faint popping sound as Ri yanked her claws out of the seat. She bounded down to land on Harry's lap, almost dislodging her sister. Both foxes grinned at the twin wizards. At least, they might have been grinning. They were showing a _lot_ of teeth.

That counts as a grin, right?

Fred made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an "eep!". He yanked open the door, grabbed his brother and hurled both of them bodily out into the hallway. A moment later the door slammed shut.

A muffled cry of, "Watch Harry for a bit!" came from the hall.

Harry supposed he was under a lot of stress. He had to be. All the weird things he was seeing were making him crack. He was really, really freaked out, and it was making him act out of character. He was doing some things that Harry Potter would never do, and he was certainly saying a lot of things that Harry Potter would never say.

Somehow it didn't occur to him that this might be exactly who he was.

He'd spent his entire life trying to be what the Dursleys wanted him to be. His every action had been designed to win their approval or avoid their wrath. He had been forced into their mold for so long that even he didn't really know who Harry Potter was supposed to be. Now he was suddenly free of their constraints. He had no idea how he was supposed to act.

In another world, his first friend would have been a less-than-stellar example of wizardkind. His eagerness to please the boy would lead to him becoming lazy and ignorant. He would have become alternately loved and hated, leading to a great deal of insecurity and a desperate need for approval.

In this world, he'd met the twins.

So... that's probably not going to end well.

"You really do have them whipped," he declared. Each hand was now occupied by a fox. His lap wasn't quite big enough for both, so they were forced to overlap a bit. They didn't seem to mind sharing the space, though. "You two sure get along a lot better than your people do. You're not very much like them at all. You'd never do the crazy things they do, would you?"

Ri rolled a little so she could look at him. Ru craned her head back to do the same. Harry once again got the feeling he was being laughed at. He stared back at the foxes intently, examining them carefully. His scrutiny was met with dual expressions of pure innocence.

For some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was going on.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

Harry almost shot to his feet in surprise, but managed to stop himself at the last second. Ri and Ru were still occupying his lap. It wouldn't do to throw them to the floor just because he was a little startled.

"Yes?" Harry reflexively squeaked. He immediately realized what he had done, and had to fight the urge to hit himself. He could have just kept quiet. Whoever was in the hall might have left if they thought the compartment was empty.

Dealing with other people wasn't exactly Harry's strong suit. He just didn't have much experience with it. Doing chores for the Durselys accounted for most of his day. The rest of his time was spent trying to avoid Dudley's gang. There wasn't really much time left for socializing between the two. Even if he had the chance, his cousin would quickly scare off anyone he tried to talk to.

Being around the twins was surprisingly easy, but Harry was pretty sure they were a special case. They seemed to have no trouble discarding the whole 'boy-who-lived' thing. They were also so ridiculous that it was hard to be self-conscious around them.

It seemed watching an angry fox try to chew someone's face off was a very effective icebreaker.

But as far as other people went...

There wasn't any point in panicking now. The person on the other side of the door had heard Harry's accidental greeting. Clearly they considered it an invitation, because the door was sliding open.

 _Actually, that's a pretty good reason to panic._ Harry reflected, beginning to panic. He hastily began trying to smooth his hair down over his scar.

A pretty young witch stuck her head into the compartment. "Anything from the cart, dear?"

"The cart?" He managed to squeak.

"Yes dear. The cart," She said motioning behind herself.

Harry craned his neck, trying to see out into the hall. It wasn't easy to do from where he was seated, but Ri and Ru didn't seem inclined to surrender his lap.

There was a small cart standing just behind the witch. It was loaded with a dazzling array of colorful packages. Some of them were slowly changing color. Others were glowing in a shades of eye-wrenching neon. A few were making faint whistling or popping noises. There were even a couple that were writhing around as if something inside was trying to escape.

Though he didn't recognize anything on the cart offhand, the pictures on some of the- bags made it easy to identify them as food. Harry gave a relieved sigh as he realized what was going on. People that were trying to sell things were almost always nice. At least, they were nice until they realized you didn't have any money.

For once in his life he actually had some money. Digging a hand into his pocket elicited an annoyed grumble from the foxes, but it was worth it. Harry smiled as the observed the collection of odd coins in his hand.

It only took a fraction of a second for that smile to falter. He honestly had no idea how much his money was worth. He really didn't want to embarrass himself by asking for something he couldn't afford. That aside, he didn't know what anything on the cart was. It wouldn't do to waste money buying something silly.

"Well, love, what can I get for you?" The witch asked him. She was staring at him expectantly.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was starting to wish the twins were here. He could have just asked them what he should do. But that wasn't an option, since they had to go find Chocolate Frogs for-

Yet again, Harry felt the urge to hit himself. The answer to his problem was so obvious that it was quite literally sitting under his nose.

"Girls? Could you do me a favor?"

The occupying forces looked at him curiously.

"Could you use this to buy some good snacks?" He asked, holding out the handful of coins.

The two foxes considered the money. They weren't particularly inclined to move at the moment, but he had asked nicely. They could always seize control of his lap again. Besides, he wanted help buying snacks. Maybe they could convince him to share. Or, at the very least, they might be able to steal some when he wasn't looking.

The vulpine twins nodded in agreement and launched into action. Ru catapulted off Harry's lap and shot towards the cart. A moment later she returned, dropping a colorful package between Harry's feet. At the same time, Ri snatched several coins from Harry's hand and sprang across the compartment. The witch blinked in surprise as several Knuts materialized on the floor by her feet. This happened several times in just a few seconds, the pile of snacks growing rapidly.

"Oh!" Harry said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Get some of those Chocolate Frogs. Like, five or six if we can afford it."

The foxes somehow managed to go from 'ludicrous speed' to a complete stop in the time it took Harry to say the word 'frogs'. The compartment floor now sported several deep gashes where they had dug their claws into the carpet. They looked at Harry, then exchanged a glance.

Could an entire Chocolate Frog 'vanish' when his back was turned?

Several more quick circuits were made, the twins depositing the requested frogs on top of Sugar Rush Tower.

The witch bent down and collected her money in bemusement. The coins were arranged in perfect stacks of ten, so neat that they looked like a single cylinder. She quickly tallied the pile of snacks and counted the coins.

The little creatures had even paid in exact change.

"Well then, thank you very much, dear," She said, clearly amused. "You and your little friends have a good trip."

Harry was so busy examining his pile of snacks that he didn't even notice the door closing. Buyer's remorse was already starting to set in. For all he knew, he may have just spent a fortune on candy.

 _Whatever._ He thought with a dismissive shrug. _I'm a kid. I'm supposed to be irresponsible. I'll just have to be careful from now on. I don't want to run out of money..._

* * *

Somewhere deep beneath Gringotts a dragon roared. It released a massive plume of fire into the air. The scorching jet slammed into the ceiling, heating the stone.

That ceiling just happened to be directly below the main Potter family vault.

The sudden heat caused the stone floor to expand ever so slightly. Normally the would have been completely meaningless. However, the minute swelling was enough to slightly shift a thirty-foot tall pile of gold. At the very top of the pile a precariously perched diamond, as big as a man's fist, slid out of place.

The large stone bounced down the pile, quickly picking up speed. It soon had an avalanche of gold coins trailing behind it. By the time it hit the bottom of the pile it was leading a massive wave of precious metal. The wave crashed across the floor, burying a collection of enchanted, goblin-made weapons and jewelry.

The devastating wall of metal blasted a line of wardrobes into splinters. Priceless furs and pelts flew into the air. Robes fit for the gods themselves joined them. An invisible robe fell, seen only by the most intelligent and refined. It landed on a solid gold Buddha statue, draped loosely around its shoulders.

The statue completely ignored the fantastic garment. It continued to stare across the vault, glaring accusingly at a large display shelf. It contained a complete collection of Hustler magazine, from the first issue to the present. All were in perfect condition, wrapped in the best preservation spells that money could buy.

A goblin marched into the vault, muttering about drawing the short straw yet again. In his arms he clutched the latest issue of the dreaded porno. It was a demeaning duty, but a contract was a contract. The goblins would do what they had been paid to do, even if they hated it.

His jaw dropped open. The largest pile in the vault was teetering. Made completely out of gold ingots, it was normally very stable. But the impact of several hundred thousand coins had comprised the stack's structural integrity. Even as he watched, the forty-foot pillar of gold began to fall towards him.

The goblin could hardly believe his luck. Staring up at the oncoming gold, he threw open his arms and let out a cry of joy. Being crushed beneath enough gold to buy a small country was a good way to die.

* * *

"Wow. That went really well. If everyone in the wizarding world is like that, then I was worried for nothing," Harry announced. He began digging through the pile of unwholesome goodness.

Ri and Ru watched him in disbelief. Ri turned to her sister and very deliberately drew the tip of her tail across her throat. Her sister sighed and nodded. Both turned back to give Harry a concerned look.

"Oh, here they are!" Harry announced. He had completely missed the entire exchange. Smiling happily, the boy dropped several packages in front of his furry friends.

The twins stared. Six chocolate frog packages were sitting on the ground before them.

"Those are for you."

They looked at Harry, their eyes wide with wonder. He was pretty sure no one had ever looked at him like that before. Even if a man fed the world, he probably would never see such amazed and grateful faces.

"Well, are you going to eat them? It's okay, really."

That was all they needed.

Ri flashed forward and tackled a package. She slid across the floor, whirled around and kicked it up into the air. Ru snatched it and held it high, allowing her sister to slash her claws across it. Both twins grabbed a side and pulled. The package resisted valiantly, but another pair of claw swipes sent it to the grave. Colorful shreds of wrapper exploded into the air.

At some point, Harry figured, this sort of thing would stop amazing him. As soon as the foxes opened the wrapper, a frog made entirely of chocolate desperately leaped away. It barely made it a foot.

A small jaw full of very sharp teeth closed around one of its hind legs. Ri shook her head violently, whipping the frog around like a rag. Harry was pretty sure its mouth was wide open in a silent scream. Eventually the leg snapped, sending the confectionery amphibian rocketing across the compartment. For a moment it looked like it was going to sail right by Ru's head. But then she quickly turned and neatly removed another leg.

The frog desperately tried to crawl away using its forelegs. The foxes slowly chewed on their chocolate legs. They were taking their time, clearly savoring every last moment. The frog was making good progress. It had made it halfway to the compartment door. Harry could see the hope glimmering in its eyes.

The girls finished chewing. They both swallowed, looks of utter bliss on their faces. Ru even gave a dainty little belch. Then they both shot forward and grabbed half the frog. There was a crunch as the bit down together. Like magic, the frog was gone.

It was probably the neatest thing Harry had ever seen in his entire life. He almost felt bad for the frog, but that had been totally cool. As another burst of shredded wrapper flew into the air, Harry wondered if all wizarding candy was like this. He did have a whole bunch to try. And he would, as soon as the foxes were done with their frogs.

The foxes had evidently decided to put on a show for Harry. He witnessed aerial acrobatics, impressive catches and remarkably precise claw work. At one point they decided to play a game of handball with their snack. It was pretty amazing that their small paws could send the animate chocolate ricocheting around the compartment at such incredible speeds. Harry conveniently failed to notice the dark brown stains this left on the walls. Those frogs bounced surprisingly well.

Something fluttered across the compartment. He almost missed it among the raining shreds of wrapper. Curious, he quickly snapped it out of the air.

It was some sort of trading card, he realized. It was actually pretty cool.

Unfortunately, the twins had completely destroyed it in their rush to open the package. It was peppered with nasty punctures. One corner of the card had been chewed off entirely. The old man in the picture was looking at the missing chunk of card with horror in his eyes. He was uncomfortably contorting his body around the tooth marks. At least the nasty scratch across the picture gave him something to lean against.

Harry squinted at the card. As chewed up and soggy with fox spit as it was, he couldn't quite read it.

"Al... All... All-Bu... All-Cussed?" He squinted harder. "Oh. I see. All-Lust Bumble-More. What an odd name..."

There was a choking noise by his feet. It appeared Ri was having some trouble swallowing her last bit of frog. Ru was sitting next to her, looking at him with wide eyes and shaking slightly. She seemed to be making some sort of little squeaking noise.

"Are you guys okay? Was it something you ate?"

They stared up at Harry. They carefully examined the card. They quickly glanced at each other.

Suddenly both familiars were rolling around the compartment. It looked like they were convulsing and both were that odd noise, only much louder now. Suddenly it dawned on Harry that they were laughing. Something had set them into a hysterical laughing fit, but he quite figure out what it was.

"I take it all back. You guys are as weird as your wizards," He announced. Randomly reaching into the pile, he extracted another package. "Lets see. What's a Cauldron Cake?"

Both foxes froze. Ri stared across the compartment at her sister, a questioning, horrified look on her face. Her sister quickly shook her head.

"Well, let's see." Harry continued. He tore open the grayish package, wrinkling his nose as a strange scent filled the air.

It did indeed look like a cauldron. The body of the cake was made of some kind of spongy looking chocolate cake. It didn't look very appealing, but the middle was much worse. The 'filling' was a watery blue-green liquid. It hissed and snapped. It was bubbling enthusiastically. Occasionally a large bubble would burst, releasing a foul black vapor. The strange scent got stronger each time this happened.

If despair had a smell, this is what it would smell like.

 _Wizards must really hate their children. There's no other explanation,_ Harry decided. "Here guys, you can have that too. Knock yourselves out," He dropped the cake on the floor near the twin familiars.

They looked at the 'snack' with disgust evident on their faces. They turned together to look at Harry. Ru gave him an accusing glare. She was obviously a bit annoyed that Harry thought their standards were so low. As bad as that was, her sister was even worse. She looked genuinely hurt. By trying to trick them into eating something so foul, Harry had betrayed them both. He was starting to feel really bad about it.

He said quickly. "I just thought you might want it. It doesn't look that good to me, but maybe you like them. It could taste a lot better than it looks!"

Great. Now they were looking at him like he was an idiot. They seemed a bit disappointed in him. Clearly they had thought him smarter than that.

"I didn't think so. You don't have to eat it. I just thought you might like it because you like Chocolate Frogs so much."

Now they were obviously confused.

"Because Chocolate Frogs are chocolate."

They nodded.

"And Cauldron Cakes are chocolate."

There was a long pause. The foxes were clearly trying to decide whether or not that was true. Finally, after several seconds, they nodded again. Grudgingly.

"So they're both chocolate. So Cauldron Cakes are kind of like Chocolate Frogs!" concluded Harry.

His declaration was met with stares of abject horror. He could swear the black parts of their body went a little gray as they paled in snarled and slashed the "treat". It slid across the compartment and stopped at Ru's feet. She huffed and very pointedly sat down with her back to Harry again.

Ru watched the cauldron cake. The filling was sloshing violently, somehow not spilling out of the chocolate cauldron. She stared at it with wide eyes. Her pupils slowly dilated. Her tail began to thump against the floor and her body began to sway.

A particularly large bubble surfaced in the cake's filling. It popped with an obscene sound, releasing a greasy burst of smoke. A smell like rotting kumquats filled the compartment. Harry had never actually seen a kumquat, but he recognized the smell regardless.

A low sound emerged from Ru's throat. It was like she was humming along to a tune no one else could hear. Her pupils had dilated far more that should be possible. The tempo of her swaying increased.

She could hear every voice on the train. She could smell every thought on the continent. She tasted the love, hate and fear of every living being on the planet. At one with the cosmos, she peered upon the very face of time itself. She gazed into eternity and something gazed back from the other side.

It moved, an impossibly sinuous motion. It beckoned to her. It offered her the secrets of the universe. It promised her everlasting joy and ultimate power. All she had to do was ask for it. All she had to do was let it in.

V **ulgtlagln syha'h. sll'ha n'ghft. orr'e ph' ftaghu. mnahn' gof'nn fm'latgh. An'sh-**

A flash of black and white slammed into Ru's face. The blow knocked all thoughts of the Cauldron Cake out of her head as it drove her to the floor.

Ru wobbled to her feet, a confused look on her face. Something had just hit her. It hit her hard and knocked her down, dirtying her beautiful fur! Who would _dare_? Her eyes locked onto her sister's tail. She stared at the furry appendage, her head bobbing to follow its movement. It was an amused and smug wag.

It was her.

A simple mauling wouldn't be adequate punishment for this. She looked around the compartment, searching for something that would convey the sheer depth of her displeasure. A quick sweep revealed the _perfect_ revenge. Ri dared to dirty her? Well, like deserves like.

She quietly eased her way across the compartment. Ri was so busy ignoring Harry that it probably wasn't necessary, but it never hurt to be careful. She eased slipped around the Cauldron Cake, careful not to look directly at it. It was difficult to push it around Mount Snackington. But life's biggest rewards came from the biggest challenges. The snack cake was stealthily maneuvered directly behind the smug fox.

She carefully watched her sister's tale, gauging the movement. It was a very simple back and forth movement. Two full swings a second. Just whipping back and forth in the air, with no artistry at all. Her sister was so simple sometimes.

One swing. Two swings. Three swings. Perfectly regular. Four swings. No variation at all. Five swings.

 _Strike!_

Harry opened his mouth at the second. He had figured out the fox's intentions. Stopping her seemed like a good idea. The words, "I don't think you should-" made it out of his mouth.

Ru launched herself over her sister, hitting the back wall of the compartment. The other fox had just enough time to look up in surprise. Ru bounced off the wall and grabbed the swinging tail in her mouth. There was a startled squawk as Ru _yanked_ , hauling Ri off her feet. With a triumphant cry, the captured tail was dunked into the bubbling Cauldron Cake.

Six inches of tail vanished into the inch-deep cake.

Ri shrieked in horror. Every hair on her body stood straight up. She lunged forward, violently yanking her tail away from her sister. It took several violent flicks to remove fizzing filling.

She brought her tail around to examine the damage. A look of absolute horror was frozen on her face. The tip of her tail, which had previously been an incredibly pure shade of white, was now day-glow green. It also had pulsing neon polka-dots. Strangest of all, there was a single brown zig-zag near the tip.

It was ruined. Here beautiful, perfect, flawless, transcendent, incredible, divine tail was ruined for ever and ever and ever. It was her best feature! Well, aside from her gorgeous tail, perfect paws, shapely legs, wonderful nose, dazzling eyes, incredible whiskers, delicate skeletal structure, wonderfully soft pads, devastating claws, remarkable intelligence and boundless compassion. Even as perfect as she was, that single flaw made it all pointless. What was the point of being imperfect like some other dumb animal?

What point was there to living if she wasn't absolutely perfect in every imaginable way?

A quick flex of her legs sent her rocketing towards Ru. The other fox was waiting, claws extended fangs bared. This would end now. One way or another, the fur would fly.

Harry somehow managed to snatch the two fast-moving projectiles out of the air. He held them up in front of his face, giving them a frown. Something about it made them feel very ashamed.

"It's not good to fight. Nothing good ever comes from hitting someone. You shouldn't have hit your sister. You shouldn't have dunked Ri"s tail in that... thing," He said reasonably. "Why don't you call it a draw."

The foxes weren't really listening to him. Instead, they were both watching the drop of blood run down his arm. He had a small, deep scratch on the back of his hand. One of them had managed to claw him. That wasn't the sort of thing they were supposed to be doing at all.

The wizard gently placed them back down on the floor. Ru hit Ri in the side with a soft headbutt, then walked around and gave her tail an experimental lick. She froze stock-still, fell on her side and belched out a noxious cloud. It took her several seconds and a few soft prods to get her back on her feet.

Harry scowled at wizardkind's revenge on ungrateful children. That thing was nothing but trouble. He snatched it up and quickly tossed it.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten something important. The cake hit the black, curtain-laced goo with a soft hiss. It slowly vanished into the black substance. There was an unholy shrieking, like the tortured souls of a million murderers escaping Hell. The filling spread throughout the goo and stained it an indescribable color. Just looking at it was hurting Harry's mind. It was like the sheen on the surface of an oil slick, only none of the hues actually existed.

It wiggled. Tiny tentacles emerged from it and began tugging at the curtains. The sound of faint whispers prickled at the edges of Harry's hearing.

"So... Who wants to play 'stay the heck away from the window' now?" Harry asked fearfully. He was pretty sure that... _thing_... was watching him. It didn't have eyes, but it was watching him.

The foxes nodded. They had the distinct feeling that they'd get more than a stained tail if they touched that.

"Okay... I suppose we're good now," Harry announced. He was slowly edging away from the squamous mass. "Let's try the rest of this. Can you guys point out the bad stuff? I really don't want another Cauldron Cake."

The foxes gave the pile of candy an appraising look. They were pretty sure that neither of them had bought a Cauldron Cake. It certainly wasn't something they would have done on purpose, but it was equally hard to believe they had done it on accident. So how in the world...?

Ri gave Harry a slight nod. Her sister continued to examine the pile of food suspiciously.

"Good. And let's... uh... just keep an eye on _that_. Just in case."

The foxes nodded again.

Eventually the Reaching Horror calmed down, settling back into its original shape. The trio continued to watch it warily.

* * *

Retroactive Author's Note:

So, the idea of wizarding candy just always bothered me. It runs away, it tastes like snot, explodes, has fun names like 'acid pops' and 'cockroach clusters' and generally behaves in a way I'd rather not have my candy behave. Whoever's coming up with this stuff is just sick in the head.

Actually, I'm pretty convinced it's all made by one guy. The dude was made fun of when he was a kid. Maybe he was a hunchback or had a wandering eye or something. So all the other kids called him "Humpy wiggle-eye" and flicked boogers at him. The burning hatred in his heart never died, so swore vengeance against all children for all eternity. After becoming an expert potions master, he executed a cunning plan that involved polyjuice, seductive poses and a rubber chicken to seize control of wizarding England's largest confectionery. Using his knowledge and newfound might, he uses his power to flood the world with repulsive candy. His reign continues to this day, a third-generation clone carrying out his sole mission in life.

I still have no idea why people actually buy the shit, though. Maybe there's a little crack in it or something.

So, I meant to come in and write 'wizard candy freaks me out' but somehow wrote whatever the hell just happened up there. That's pretty much how the whole story goes from here on out. Next chapter is the last one that actually played out according to my plans.

Signed with love,

Genericdarklord, the only _true_ dark lord, because he's _all_ the dark lords


	3. She's Always Wet

Something Familiar

Chapter 3: "Hail to the King!"

AKA: "She's Always Wet"

* * *

It was amazing what you could get used of. After half an hour, the Nightmare Window was just another part of the room. Eventually they more or less forgot about it.

Harry and his foxy friends managed to demolish the pile of snacks. It helped that the foxes seemed able to consume several times their mass in food. He was pretty sure that Ru actually managed to eat more than he had.

Eventually the were disturbed by the door opening.

Fred waltzed in happily, throwing out his arms. "Rejoice, rejoice! We have returned!"

"And we brought victims!" George added. He pushed his brother out of the door. "Sorry, not victims. I meant to say minions."

Someone gave George a friendly smack to the back of the head. George pitched forward from the force of the blow. He stumbled across the small compartment, struggling to regain his footing. Both familiars shot up into the luggage rack as he staggered forward. He didn't manage to recover before colliding with his brother. They both slammed into the goo-encrusted window.

Harry goggled. There had been absolutely no intent to harm in the hit. He should know, he'd been on the wrong end of violent acts far too many times.

The twins thanked every god they had ever heard of that the curtain was still stuck across most of the window. The formerly black goo was reaching for them. It was now a shade of black beyond even black. Just looking at it caused a multitude of tiny voiced to gibber in the back of their minds. Fred's hand was a bit too close to the edge of the curtain, allowing several thin tentacles to whip around it. It took several mighty yanks to pull it free. The whole time, Fred was whispering, "Just cut off my arm... Just cut it off..."

They pulled his arm away with a horrible tearing-sucking sound. Several small tentacles came with it, torn loose from the main mass. They tried to squirm their way up Fred's arm, forcing the twins to desperately smack them off. The black tendrils continued to move even after being knocked to the floor.

They were quickly stomped into oblivion.

"What the hell happened to the window!?" Fred squeaked.

Harry shrugged. "It broke, remember?"

"But it just..."

"It's a _magic_ window. Who can say how a _magic_ window will break, Fred?" Harry sagely informed the older boy.

"Are you alright, Red? You seem to have stumbled a bit there. You really should be more careful." A voice from the hallway advised. There wasn't even the slightest hint of humor or playfulness to it. The speaker was serious.

Fred continued to watch the window.

"We're fine, King. Just a little trip." George said over his shoulder. There were some things in the magical world that it was best to ignore. He intended to do just that. "C'mon down and pull up a seat. Ah, don't actually pull it up. Just sit in it. And don't sit down too hard."

An unfamiliar boy made his way into the compartment. Something about him was very odd. He was more or less average sized, maybe even a bit on the lean side. Despite that, he somehow gave the impression of being huge. It was like someone took ten Hagrids and squeezed them down into a normal student.

There was a large trunk thrown over his shoulder, held by a single index finger around the handle.

Harry noted as an afterthought that he had short, sandy hair. He was well-dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. An ash-gray blazer completed the ensemble. Small, rimless glasses were perched on his nose. He must have been muggleborn, because Harry didn't think any pureblood could dress themselves so well.

"Red, I have been on this Earth for thirteen years. I think I know how to- Good lord! What in God's name happened to that window!?" he exclaimed.

"It broke." Harry, Fred and George all said. The foxes hopped down onto the bench and gave the black mass a suspicious glare. They were clearly shaken by their wizards' close encounter with the Goo. Ri began to growl, but squeaked in fear and hid behind her sister when it bulged toward her. Luckily, it seemed to only be able to stretch a few inches from the frame.

"I see... I was not aware that windows could break in that manner. How very odd..." the boy slowly said. "Perhaps... we should find a new compartment."

Fred shook his head. "Nah, they're probably all full. We'd have to split up. People are only staying away from this one because..." The redhead thought about it for several seconds. How many people had seen them dragging a wildly muttering madman into this compartment? "... of the Goo."

"But-"

"It's cool, King. We'll be fine as long as we stay away from it. And don't look directly at it. And don't think about it too much. And stay away from it. And assume it might come for us at any time. And prepare to kill it with fire. And stay away from it." Fred declared.

The boy, clearly King, looked around cautiously. If there was one unimaginable terror from the far side of reason and sanity, there might be more. "You said, 'Stay away from it.' three times." He pointed out.

"Yeah. I was aware of that." Fred sighed. He turned so he could look at Harry and keep the window in his line of sight. "Lil' Harry, meet our good buddy King. Somehow we've survived sharing a room with him for two years so far."

"Let's hope we keep up the streak." George sighed.

"King, this is Just Harry." Fred finished, nudging Harry forward.

He reached out and shook King's free hand. Iron would turn green in envy, Harry decided. Iron spent its entire like hoping to grow up and be like King someday. The poor base metal was doomed to failure and disappointment. It had _nothing_ on King.

"Hi." Harry greeted softly. He was trying really hard not to freak out and do something strange. King could break him by looking at him. If Harry upset him like he upset his cousin, his life was over. But the twins seemed to like him, so he couldn't be that bad. Right? "I'm pretty sure I'm _the_ Harry Potter. I'm told there might be more of me around, I'm not absolutely certain."

The twins snickered, while King gave him a blank stare. "I am Arthur King. I'm quite pleased to make your acquaintance Harry. This is my familiar. Come in and say hello, Lady." He moved out of the door, allowing _something_ to step into the compartment.

Lady was made out of water. From head to toe, every bit of her body was made out of the stuff. She had slender limbs, a narrow waist, a moderately large chest and long hair. None of it looked quite right. Harry decided she was very pretty, but it was like someone who had never seen a woman made one based on a description. All of her features were just a little off. She was like a ever so slightly exaggerated caricature of a girl.

"Hi Lady." Harry greeted. The familiar waggled her thin fingers back at him.

"I'm afraid Lady cannot talk, so we muddle along as best we can." King explained. "Still, she is quite happy to meet you."

"Oh, good. Is she really made out of water?"

King chuckle. "When I first summoned her, I had quite a hard time believing that myself. But I assure you, she is exactly what she appears to me."

Fred chimed in. "She's a water elemental, Harry. It'd be pretty strange if she wasn't made of water."

"What's a water elemental?"

Lady pointed at herself.

King chuckled and patted her on the head. "I believe he was asking for a description of your species. Thank you for helping, regardless."

Lady shrugged. She stepped around King and took a seat on one of the benches. Harry noted with interest that she didn't get the fabric wet.

"A water elemental is a sort of low-ranked nature spirit. They are born from great upheavals of nature itself. Hurricanes and tornado sometimes create wind elementals. Volcanic eruptions and wildfires might result in fire elementals. Earthquakes make earth elementals, while Lady was most likely born from a flood or tidal wave.". King explained.

Lady nodded.

King swung his trunk around and slammed it into place up on a luggage rack. The roof of the compartment splintered slightly. The rack itself gave a dangerous pinging sound and bent slightly. King didn't even seem to notice.

"So people have familiars like this too? Not just animals."

"Most people have animals, Harry." George informed him.

Fred continued, "Magical beasts are pretty uncommon. Weaker spirits like the watery tart are pretty rare."

"Though they have been more common in recent years." King said. "And what have I told you about calling her that? I find it most vexing."

"She threw a sword at your head! It almost gave me a new hole when you moved out of the way!"

Arthur gave a long suffering sigh. He plopped into the seat next to Lady. The bench gave a faint, metallic squeal in protest. "She has already explained that it was a misunderstanding. She was throwing the sword at someone else when she was summoned."

"The moistened bint almost killed George!"

"She was merely trying to greet him. She is quite affectionate, you know."

"She stuck his head straight into her chest! She almost drowned him!"

Harry gave Lady a horrified look. "She almost _drowned_ him?"

"Oh, you have nothing to fear, Harry. Lady is the kindest and gentlest creature you're ever likely to meet. She simply has not quite mastered the fine art of the hug. I'm afraid she gets a bit over-enthusiastic and tends to press people into her chest." King calmly explained.

"And he doesn't mean she presses you _against_ her chest. When he says into, he means _into_." George commented darkly. "It's all wet and drowny in there. Trust me, it's not a really pleasant experience."

"It also could've killed him." Fred spat. He seemed far more upset about it than is brother.

"It only happened once, and I extracted him before he came to any great harm."

"He passed out, King."

"And Madam Pomfrey stated that he merely suffered from a minor case of oxygen deprivation. Lady has learned her lesson."

Fred sighed and sat down. "Yeah, well, it could've been a lot worse."

"Exactly how many bludgers collided with your face last year? Each time you would say, 'It's not a big deal, King. We're still learning, it's bound to happen!'. Those dreadful cannonballs have hurt both of you far worse than Lady has. Despite that, you continue to compare their hardness to that of your skull."

Fred pointed at the elemental and opened his mouth. He paused. His hand dropped to his side, where it began tapping against the seat. His mouth opened again, but he froze for a second time and studied George's face. He could still remember exactly were a rather viscous hit had caved in part of the other twin's cheek.

"Huh." He finally said. "Y'know, when you put it like that, I sound like a bit of an ass."

"Then would you be willing to stop bringing it up? Or will we be discussing this a seventeenth time?"

"We haven't done this sixteen times, King."

"Sixteen. Exactly."

"You counted?"

"I counted."

Harry was examining Lady through the entire exchange. He found himself completely fascinated. Each time she moved it would send almost imperceptible ripples across her body. He could see right through her. She clearly had no skeleton or muscles, but she had no trouble moving. How did she do that?

"Would... would it be weird if I asked to touch her?"

Tiny waves spread through Lady's form, originating from the center of her chest. Harry was fairly sure that she was laughing. She raised one of her arms and held her hand out. Harry hesitantly reached toward it. Lady gave another ripple and shoved her hand forwards. She forced her hand against his, driving one of his extended fingers clear through her palm.

Harry gasped in wonder. "Doesn't that hurt?"

The water-girl shook her head.

"Wicked. You're so cool!" Harry said to her, causing another bout of liquid giggles.

George laughed. "Watch out King! Harry seems to like familiars."

"He's been doing a pretty good job of seducing the girls away from us." said Fred. He looked up at the small, black form in the luggage rack. She was directly above him, watching the Goo through narrowed eyes. Her sister had taken up a similar position above George. They were clearly not happy about the monstrosity's attempt to eat their wizards.

King's brow furrowed. He said, "Red. You're both quite aware that such a thing is impossible. The Bond ensures eternal affection and companionship from both parties."

"Geez, King. He was kidding. We really outta find you a sense of humor one of these days."

"I resent the implication that I am lacking a sense of humor. I have a very thorough understanding of the construction and functionality of humorous remarks." King said primly. He smacked the bench to emphasize his point. It groaned again, the side he was sitting on dropping a few inches.

George sighed. "And so it begins..."

"They really should think about constructing these in a more satisfactory manner." King remarked, shaking his head. "Why, if one of these benches broke, person could get quite a severe injury."

"King old buddy, trust me when I say that that's not a problem for most people."

"No, really, it's rather worrying. Substandard construction and shoddy craftsmanship seem to pervade our culture. Just the other day I accidentally walked through a door!"

"Is that bad?" Harry asked. "I mean, isn't that what doors are for?"

Fred sighed. "He means it was closed at the time, Harry. King plowed through a closed door."

"Probably didn't even slow him down." George added.

"Well... I do admit that I failed to see the 'pull' sign in time. Still, a simple little push should not be sufficient to so completely destroy a door." He sighed and leaned back in his seat. There was a snap. King's side the bench hit the floor, sending Lady sliding into his lap. He casually caught her and continued, "You see? What manner of tradesmen would consider this an adequate effort?"

Harry was staring. There was simply no way that King should be heavy enough to break a bench. Then again, he shouldn't be able to slam a large trunk into the ceiling hard enough to damage it. It seemed like the wizarding world was just full of things like these.

"I see..." Harry said. "That's pretty terrible."

"Isn't it though?" King agreed. "Disappointing structural stability of these seats aside, I am grateful for your invitation to this compartment. I was previously sharing one with some upperclassmen. For some reason they seemed most distressed by my presence."

"Yeah. Go figure." George muttered.

It was kind of odd talking to King, since Lady was directly between them. Harry had to look through the water elemental to see him. King would try to look around her, but Lady would just move in front of him again. Without joints or bones her body was unnaturally flexible. It was clearly a losing battle for the boy. Judging by the giggles dancing across her surface Lady found the game highly amusing.

"You know, at times I very strongly suspect you are trying to break my composure." King sighed.

Lady's body flowed and reshaped itself so she was facing King. She gave him what was obviously meant to be a condescending pat on the head.

"Yes, very good. I-"

She wrapped her arms around his head and quickly shoved his face into her chest. George was right. King's mouth and nose broke the surface of her body. His mouth opened in surprise, allowing a few bubbles of air to escape.

She let him go immediately and hopped off his lap with a splash.

King gasped. "Don't do that! I simply do not understand! I was certain you would have figured out what you were doing wrong by now..."

Harry watched her. She was very obviously giggling. Her hand was even held up in front of her lower face in a dainty gesture. It was odd, considering there wasn't any sound and she didn't actually have a mouth to cover. He thought it was pretty obvious she had done it on purpose and he'd only known her for ten minutes.

Lady splashed down into the seat beside Harry. Turning to face him, she spread her arms and looked at him questioningly. Harry was torn. He was almost one-hundred percent certain she had done that to tease King. It had been pretty rough, but not nearly as bad as what Ri and Ru did to their wizards. Still, he wasn't sure beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He really wanted to find out what hugging a girl made out of water was like. He really wanted to find out what hugging _anyone_ was like, but her especially. It was probably really, really neat. The only problem was that he didn't particularly want to learn what her chest looked like from the inside.

"Um, no thank you. Maybe later." he finally decided.

Lady sagged. The boy was cute and clearly quite nervous. He really looked like he could use a hug or two. How was she supposed to know she'd have to face the consequences of her actions? It just didn't seem fair!

George was giving King a look. "So, King, how many times has that happened lately?" he asked curiously.

King paused in his efforts to wipe his face off with his blazer. The blazer was also soaked, so he wasn't having much luck. Thinking about it, he answered, "Well, she is doing much better lately. She has only dragged me into the depths four times in the last week, and I have only awoken completely sodden once."

"Right. And, uh, how many times has she done that to other people?"

"Not a single time." the other boy announced proudly. "I do believe that she has been quite careful. I am afraid that the Bond simply compels her to be more affectionate towards me."

"And that doesn't strike you as odd?"

"Well, why would it? That is indeed part of the Bond's purpose."

Lady was rippling again. The other three boys stared at King in disbelief. Up with the luggage, Ri and Ru were hiding their faces with their tails. Ru was making that little noise that Harry thought was a snicker. Ri wasn't snickering. She had just noticed that her tail was a deep purple with wandering baby-blue specks.

 _There's no way he doesn't realize. He has to be messing with us._

Lady was looking at King, wondering if he needed another hug. It would probably be better not to. Even he'd catch on sooner or later. Probably. Still, there wasn't any point in pushing her luck. She'd get him tonight, while he was asleep. That was a lot funnier anyway.

Sadly, Harry figured there was a good chance he was wrong. He was pretty good at reading body language, having developed the skill by trying to avoid his uncle's worst moods, and there was no hint of humor in King's stance. Either the boy really had no sense of humor or he was incredibly dense. Looking at the half-collapsed bench, Harry decided that he was probably pretty dense in at least one sense of the word. How could he be that heavy?

The young boy had always been good at math. He had been good at all his subjects. It would have been easy for him to be at the top of his class, if he didn't get hit for outdoing Dudley. Quickly estimating King's total volume and the amount of weight the bench could support, he tried to figure out exactly how dense his new friend was.

The answer came back as, "purple with a hint of cinnamon".

"Harry, buddy, is that smoke coming out of your ears?" Fred asked in concern. At least they knew how to fix him now.

"CinnaPurple, now with sunshine!" Harry responded. He quickly shook his head. "Sorry... did you say something, Fred?"

"No, it's good. I just- Merlin! Ri, what happened to your tail?" Fred asked in horror.

The fox looked at her tail, the tilted her head at George. She was acting for all the world like nothing was odd about it.

"Seriously, it's all powder-blue with some sort of 'blushing bride' spiderweb on it. There's even a little pink spider. It's moving and everything!"

"Blushing bride?" Harry and King asked together.

"What? It's a color!" The twin announced defensively. "It's shade number sixty-one in... ah... what were we talking about again?"

"Blushing bride." Harry and King prodded.

"Blushing bride? What the heck is blushing bride?"

"Apparently, it is some variety of color." King informed him.

"Number sixty-one in something." chimed in Harry.

"Boy, you guys are strange sometimes." Fred shook his head sadly.

The goo groaned and reached for them. Arthur sighed, quickly stood and gave it an absolutely brutal kick. Harry heard glass breaking. The car rocked slightly on its tracks. The goo tried to grab his leg, but the sheer force of the strike forced the tentacles away. The unnatural sludge went limp, apparently having been knocked senseless by the blow.

"I am normally a strict follower of the tenant, 'live and let live', but repeated attempts to devour our minds and souls will not be tolerated. You may share this compartment with us when you learn to behave like a good abomination." the human wrecking-ball chastised. He sat back down, causing the bench's remaining good legs to buckle.

"Holy shit..." George mouthed.

"Can you actually do that? How the heck do you just coldcock a bunch of sludge?" Fred asked. "I mean, it doesn't even have a brain, right? It doesn't even have a head. How do you cause massive head injuries to something that doesn't have a head."

Arthur shrugged. "It's quite easy, apparently. I'm somewhat surprised you lads didn't do it when the window first broke."

"The window wasn't a soul-sucking monstrosity when we left."

"Harry must've done something to it. _He_ should have kicked it into lala land."

Harry gave them an incredulous look. "It would have _eaten_ me."

"Nonsense. Even a small lad like yourself should be capable of such a gentle blow." Arthur announced.

Harry's brain was beginning to hurt again. "He's kidding, right? There's just no way he could be serious..."

"Sorry Harry."

"He's not kidding."

"There's not a drop of humor in his body."

"We've been trying to convince him since we met him, but he just doesn't believe he's a one-man demolition squad."

Arthur shook his head sadly. "You two have a well-deserved reputation for being rapscallions. I would think it beneath you to present such an obvious ruse."

"Arthur... buddy..."

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Of course I have. I am no larger than any other young man of our age. I have never once touched anything resembling sport or exercise. Such base physical activities are beneath an intellectual such as myself. I am capable of nothing that any other wizard could not do." Arthur chuckled. "I am sorry, but I will not be taken in by such a simple deception."

Harry stared at the ruined bench King was sitting on. He gave the insensate goo a considering appraisal. He gave the boy himself a good look, studying the inhuman layers of muscle that covered his body. They weren't really large, but something about them gave the impression of tightly woven steel cords. He wondered if King would even feel a sledgehammer to the gut. He wondered if a bullet would actually penetrate more than a few millimeters into his body.

Something jarred the train slightly, literally spilling Lady onto the floor. It was pretty convenient, because Harry followed an instant later. The water-girl's position allowed her to break his fall with her body. Harry hit her face-first, but it was like landing on a damp pillow. His face was pressed into her bosom, but never actually broke the surface.

As Harry had suspected, she was dousing her wizard on purpose. He wondered if it was a game to her or if it was more like a cat rubbing its face against their owner.

He also wondered if all familiars intentionally tormented their partners. He really hoped not.

"Oh dear. Let me help you up, Harry. " Arthur offered, standing. The bench finally decided that standing wasn't worth the effort. It collapsed to the floor.

"King! Don't!" the twins shouted together.

King reached down to help Harry to his feet. His hand was extended towards the fallen pair. It was like watching a meteor descend from the sky, straight at your face.

Luckily, a curve in the track sent Lady and Harry sloshing to the side. King couldn't react in time. The turn caused him to lose his balance and slam his hand into the floor. It went right through. There were several rapid crunches, the sound of railroad ties breaking against King's knuckles.

He yanked his hand out of the floor and gave it a sour look. His knuckles were rather severely abraded. "Well, that's somewhat annoying, isn't it? I don't supposed anyone has a first-aid kit? It would be very impolite to spread blood around the compartment."

"Uh... sorry." Harry said. "You could use my sweatshirt. I was going to throw it out when we got to school, anyway."

"Oh, could not possibly... accept..." King slowly trailed off. He looked up and down the younger student's body.

His pants were far too large. He could probably fit his whole body into one leg. They were threadbare to boot. There were old stains, small holes and moderately large rips. His sweatshirt was no better. He was practically swimming in the thing. It was very grungy and the hood was half torn off.

"Harry, why on earth are you wearing such vile clothing?" King demanded.

The twins blinked. They hadn't really thought about it much. All their clothes had already been worn by three Weasley children. They had barely noticed that Harry was wearing hand-me-downs. On closer inspection, his were far worse than anything they owned. They were worse than what Ron owned and his robes had been passed down from and extra set of brothers. At least their clothes fit. Their mother even altered them so they were comfortable and repaired any damage they might sustain.

"Yeah Harry..."

"...what's up with that?"

Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat. They were giving him the Look. He knew what that particular Look meant. They thought something about him was odd. It meant they might say something to his aunt and uncle.

"Oh... I figured I'd wear some old clothes on the train. No use bringing good ones. They'd just sit in a trunk all year." Harry explained. He had gotten pretty good at explaining away bruises and obvious signs of neglect. The small amount of sympathy he got wasn't worth the consequences.

The twins were very good at hiding things. They wouldn't get away with half their stunts if they weren't. Their skill in deception and misdirection was unmatched by anyone in their age group. Even many grown wizards would have trouble keeping up with them.

There's an interesting side effect that comes with learning to lie. The better you get at deceiving people, the easier it is to see through other people's attempts to deceive you.

The twins were _very_ good at hiding things.

"Well, that's a pretty good idea, Harrikins."

"You're very wise indeed."

They were both fighting down the urge to frown, giving Harry wide smiles instead. It was perfectly clear that Harry was a pretty straightforward guy. That was a minor failing they were perfectly willing to correct. He had shown signs of extreme discomfort when they tried to get a look at his scar. When King had come in, he had been seriously nervous. It was borderline fear. Meeting new people was stressful and King was a bit intimidating, but the reaction had been pretty extreme.

The younger boy was clearly lying to them about his clothing. If his family simply couldn't afford a new wardrobe, why wouldn't he just say so? Merlin knows it pretty obvious they had the same problem. He hadn't been embarrassed or ashamed about the situation. He had been afraid. He was trying to hide something and was afraid of the consequences if they found out.

Harry wasn't the only one who had learned to read people. The twins were very good at it. You had to know how someone was feeling if you wanted to embarrass them properly.

Fred started to say something.

The door to the compartment slammed open, cutting him off. A young girl in Hufflepuff robes stuck her head in. "Hey," she said, "you guys seen Harry Potter around? He's supposed to be somewhere on the train, but we can't find him."

The boy in question froze up. George frowned at the reaction and stood. Fred gave her a disarming smile and announced, "Sorry about that. We're not the least bit hairy!"

George leaned over and ruffled Harry's hair. By sheer coincidence, this forced it further down his forehead. "Yep. Just us brothers, the king of calamity and our good friend Ivan O. Philur.""

She studied the first year. "Ivan O. Philur?"

"Sorry, I don't think you have the right equipment." Fred said sadly.

She gave him a confused look. They had told her to avoid this compartment. They had warned her that some sort of ranting nutcase was here. Clearly they had been right. This was one of the last places to look, though. If she wanted to get in good with the famous first year, she had to find him quick. Other witches had the same idea.

Catch him now while he's young and impressionable. Get the... fruits... of the plan when he gets older.

"Right... Sorry to bother you... I'll just leave now." she slid the the door shut and got the hell outta Dodge.

Arthur gave the twins a confused stare. "Harry is clearly here. He is sitting right in front of you. Why would you tell her-"

"Okay Harry..."

"...what gives?"

"You looked like you were about to flip out there."

"I'm not good with people." Harry admitted. "When Hagrid brought me to Diagon Alley, they were all around me. They wouldn't leave me alone, all because of something I don't remember doing. I'm not a hero, I'm Harry."

It kind of made sense. Fred and George were well aware that excessive attention was a pretty major burden. How were you supposed to get away with anything with so many eyes on you? Given his reputation, Harry was sure to be judged for everything he did. It would only get worse as he got older.

The other boys were impressed that he realized how unpleasant fame could be. Ron would be marching around the train, proclaiming his greatness and demanding every love him.

Fred began, "Don't worry, Harry."

"If someone comes looking for you..."

"..we'll the 'm to screw off." the finished together.

King cleared his throat loudly. "While I would not use such vulgar terms, I believe it would be acceptable to divert those that come searching for you."

Lady nodded enthusiastically. She turned towards the door and opened her arms, as if offering someone there a hug. Ri and Ru chuckled on the seat behind her.

"Thanks. I-"

Three was a loud pounding on the door. Before they could answer, it slammed open. A fifth year Ravenclaw pushed her way into the compartment. "We've been looking for the boy-who-lived. Have you seen Harry?"

"Oh, Harry's right over there." George announced. He pointed straight at Harry.

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. _He just said..._

"That's Harry Potter?" She said, raising an eyebrow. He was a bit scrawny, but he'd surely fill out.

Fred shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm afraid there's been a bit of a miscommunication. This isn't Harry Potter. This strapping you lad is our fine friend, Harry Balzak!"

"He may not be famous, but the guy really knows how to hang out."

"He's a blast at parties. You should grab him next time you go to one."

The Ravenclaw stared at the pair. They were clearly morons. This was why she normally didn't associate with people outside of her house. "I'm afraid I'll pass." she said coldly. "I'm quite sure I'm not looking for a Harry Balzak." She slammed the door shut and marched down the hall.

The twins watched her go. Disbelief was written all over their faces. Weren't Ravenclaws supposed to be clever? Did she honestly not realize what she had said. Either way...

Both twins collapsed into a seat, laughing hysterically. The foxes seemed to be having some sort of strange seizure again. They had rolled down onto the seat and were laying there, shaking. Lady's body looked like the ocean when a hurricane passed over it. She was just barely managing to hold onto her humanoid shape.

King's face was blank. His confused gaze swept around the compartment. "My friends... is there something wrong? I seemed to have missed something."

Harry was also confused. It seemed everyone else was too busy laughing to explain the joke.

"I understand that something amusing has happened, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand. She simply said... does it have something to do with the name you used? Is Harry Balzak somehow invoked?"

This had the effect of making the twins and familiars laugh twice as hard.

"This is absurd. What is so funny about Hairy Balzak? I just can't seem to grasp it."

Harry was starting to get worried. He was pretty sure someone was going to hurt something soon. A person should not be able to laugh that hard. Fred's face was turning purple. Little drips of water were falling off Lady and splashing onto the carpet. He was pretty sure the furry twins had lost all control of their bodies.

All this over Harry Balzak?

The door slid open. A confused looking witch leaned in. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

King shook his head and sighed. "Most likely, but I'm afraid I can't tell you quite what it is."

"Okay... so... I don't suppose you guys know where Harry Potter is? I've been up and down the train, trying to find him."

"I'm afraid that we've been in this compartment for the majority of this trip. I, the twin fools and my friend and comrade, Dick Steele." King said.

"Oh. Well... carry on with... whatever." she said slowly. She carefully backed out of the compartment and closed the door.

Both sets of twins were staring at King with obvious looks of amazement on their face. George shook his head in disbelief. "King... Did you seriously just tell a joke? Did you really just mess with that girl'?"

"I did no such thing." King said. He was clearly annoyed. "I simply told her that Harry was Dick Steele."

"That's what I mean, man. Dick Steele! You said Harry was Dick Steele. I wish I had thought of that one. Dick Steele is great!'

King perked up. He happily said, "Oh! I was not aware that you knew Richard. What an interesting coincidence. He is an excellent fellow, isn't he?"

All signs of amusement drained from the twin's faces. "Hold up. You actually know someone named Dick Steele? That's why you said that?"

"Why of course. I'm a bit uncomfortable using his name as part of this deception. Under the circumstances, I'm sure Dick would approve."

"Damn it, King. We thought you finally grew a sense of humor." The twins looked defeated. The foxes were still laughing, though."

"So you thought I had made a joke. I don't... oh. It was the name again, wasn't it?" King rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So there is something funny about Dick Steele?"

"I... you know what? Never mind. It's not worth the effort."

"You keep calling Fred and George Red. Why?" Harry asked.

King nodded smugly. "You see, it's quite simple Harry. They-"

The door suddenly slid open, interrupting King. "Hey, is Harry Potter in here?"

George shook his head and answered, "Nope. Just us and Sawyer Snatch."

The girl closed the door with a sour look.

Poor King tried to answer Harry's question again and again, but it seemed it was not meant to be. The compartment door would slam open every time he opened his mouth. It seemed like every witch third year and up had the same idea: get their claws into Harry Potter while he was still young. Most of them just wanted the famous wizard for themselves. Quite a few wanted to see how large the Potter vaults were.

George and Fred seemed to be enjoying the situation. The kept turning the searching witches away, branding Harry with more creative and obscene names as time went by. Fred was particularly fond of "Don Keedik" while George seemed to enjoy "Holden Hiskok".

King apparently wanted to tell his story quite badly. Either that, or he just really hated being interrupted. He just plowed ahead, stubbornly starting over each time the compartment door closed.

Harry and King just didn't understand what was so funny. Harry was just a bit too young for that humor. He didn't have much experience with jokes in general, unless the punchline was a literal punch. In many ways King was even worse. The teenage titan just seemed to have no understanding of comedy.

His familiar didn't have the same problem. Lady had collapsed into a oddly shaped ball of wildly rippling water quite a while ago. The foxes weren't doing any better. Several minutes of sustained hysterical laughter caught up with Ru. She hyperventilated and passed out, causing her sister to laugh even harder. Ri's Cauldron Cake tainted tail was rapidly changing color with each sharp yip.

Every time King had to restart his sentence, his voice would get a little louder. It was a bit strange to see the calm and quiet boy raising his voice. It was even more amazing to see the vein above his eyebrow becoming more and more visible. Harry didn't even know that could happen. He was pretty sure it was actually throbbing in time with the boy's pulse.

King was a very calm, well-composed young man. There was absolutely no doubt about that. He seemed like that kind type that liked to take care of others. However, everyone had a breaking point.

"King, man, maybe you should give it a rest." George gently suggested.

Fred nodded. "Yeah. It's not really that important. Just tell 'im later."

"That is unacceptable. When you are asked a question, it is only to polite to answer it quickly." King scowled. He was still standing, not trusting the remaining intact bench. "Now, once again, I-"

The door slid open.

King's right eyebrow spammed violently. His hand tightened around the luggage rack, mangling the metal structure. Harry could _hear_ his teeth grinding together.

The walking tank whirled around and roared, " _THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER!"_

Ru shot across the floor in a panic, actually managing to claw her was straight up the wall. Ri bounced, kicked off Harry's chest and shot upwards. The impact knocked Harry into the intact seat. The sudden shout caused Fred to stumble in shock. He slipped on some junk food wrappers and fell. Luckily, his face broke his fall. George's body slammed down on him an instant later. A panicked water elemental slammed into the wall so hard she lost her form. The goo in the window squealed in horror.

Harry looked around in shock. There was a fox peering out from inside a trunk. It looked like she had clawed her way in, making a small hole in the wood. The other furry familiar was clinging to the roof. Fred and George were tangled up on the floor. Their legs had somehow ended up wedged under the broken seat. Lady was a puddle. She was desperately trying to keep herself from draining down the hole in the floor.

Quickly sliding out of his seat, Harry shoved his hand into the familiar. She gratefully flowed up his arm.

There was a ashen-faced Hufflepuff prefect standing in the door. The fifth year was staring at the younger student in fear.

"I... just... wanted to tell... time... change..." she managed to squeak to.

King's body subtly shifted. He went from 'unstoppable engine of violence' to his normal, passive demeanor in the time it took Harry to blink. "Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. It would be very embarrassing if we did not have time to change." He said gratefully. "Oh, my dear, are you alright? You do not look well..."

"I think I just peed myself."

"How every unpleasant. You had better go get changed. You wouldn't want to arrive at Hogwarts with wet robes." King sympathetically said.

The witch continued to stare at King in fear.

King gave her a confused look in return.

Finally, she whispered, "Can... can I go now?"

"Of course. You hardly need my-"

"Thankyoufornoteatingme!" she squealed as she escaped down the hall.

"Well, that was very odd..."

Fred, still face down, worked something around in his mouth. With a disgusted gag, he managed to eject some sort of wrapper. It left a nasty taste in his mouth. He really hoped it wasn't a Cauldron Cake wrapper. "George? Is that you?"

"I'm fairly sure it's me. It might be you, though. Sometimes I'm not sure who is who."

"This damn trash is a pretty nasty hazard. It got you too, huh?" Fred asked.

"Nope!" cheerfully answered George.

"The what are you doing on top of me?"

"Oh, well, everyone else was flying all over the place. It looked fun."

"I hate you so much, brother."

"Consider this payback. We're even now."

The taste in Fred's mouth was getting worse. It tasted like asphalt and shame. "I think I just ate a Cauldron Cake package. I can still taste it."

"Oh Merlin! Fred, I'm so sorry. If I'd know, I would never have..."

"My face hurts. It hurts a lot."

"That's because you're laying on it. So am I."

"Could you get up? I'd really like to get my face outta the carpet. It smells funny down here. I think the wrapper might be rolling back towards my face."

George gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. "I'd love to. I seem to have stuffed my legs under a seat. Yours are down there too, actually."

"I was wondering what that unpleasant splintery feeling was. I was hoping it wasn't splinters. It's splinters, isn't it?"

"Sure is. Luckily you shielded me from the worst of it."

"Damn it. I'm going to make you-"

"Oh dear!" exclaimed King. He had just noticed the twins laying on the floor. "How did you get down there, Red? You seem to be in a bit of a predicament."

"Bit of a funny story, mate."

"We were dodging a bull."

King's brow furrowed in confusion. "But all of the large familiars are in the back cars. I'm very sure I would have noticed a bull..."

"I'm not so sure, King."

"Regardless, we can't have you rolling around in a pile of trash. Allow me!"

" _King! No!_ " the twins screamed. George began flailing in a wild attempt to free his legs. It was driving Fred's face into the carpet. Fred just urged his brother on, yell at him to push harder. Ignoring the abrasions and scratches, he did just that. He could see his fox clinging to the ceiling above him. She looked like a woman that had recently become a widow.

"Honestly, such determination to save me a bit of effort. Sometimes you truly admirable. Still, I assure you that it's not trouble. I'll have you up in just a moment.

George whimpered. His brother seemed to be praying under his breath.

King reached down with one hand and lifted the bench. He gave it a confused look. Shrugging, he casually tossed it to the side. Luckily, Lady was still wrapped around Harry's torso. She used her weight to slam him down into his seat, narrowly avoiding the projectile. There was a panicked shriek as it slammed into the goo. Most of the bench vanished with a slurp.

Something very large vanishing into something much smaller was one of those things that was never going to stop amazing Harry. All that remained of the seat was four jagged legs sticking out of the vile mass. Even as he watched, a few more inches disappeared with a nasty sucking sound.

"Thanks..." he muttered.

George sighed in relief. That actually hadn't been too bad. It could have been much worse. The train took another hit, but at least no one got hurt.

"Now, to get you back on your feet." King announced.

George whimpered. Why had he even thought that? How could he have been so stupid.

King's hand closed tightly around the front of George's collar. With a mighty heave, King swung him into the air. Harry could see his face turning purple as his collar tightened. Luckily for George, his clothes were no match for King's raw power. There was a loud rip and George slammed bodily into the wall. He slid down into the good seat with a dazed look on his face.

There was a very well-defined imprint on the wall. King examined it for a brief moment, then shrugged it off. It's not like his friend went _through_ the wall. That's when it started to hurt. He turned and reached for Fred.

Poor Fred realized what was happening far too late. It wasn't until King grabbed the back of his waistband that he realized the sheer depths of pain he was about to experience.

King yanked the Weasley off the floor. Fred swung up in a tight arc, letting out a high-pitched scream. He was trying to grab the front of his pants and get some breathing room. Or maybe some hanging room. Much like his brother's robes, Fred's pants simply couldn't take the forces they were exposed to. He launched into the wall, then settled into the seat on the other side of Harry.

There was a face-shaped impression in the wall. It was positioned in the exact center of the wall-angel his brother had left.

"There now. That was simple to fix, wasn't it?" King happily declared. Nothing made him happier than helping his friends.

The twins looked at each other. They both looked like they had been run over by a truck.

"Thanks, King." they said together.

"Oh, no worries. It's never a problem at all."

Fred rubbed his face. He had a feeling it was going to look a lot worse than Harry's. He really wanted to check his other injury, but that would have been a bit inappropriate. "Damn." he whispered out the side of his mouth. "We didn't even get of the train."

"I've got a bad feeling about this year." George declared. "Maybe we could borrow some of Lee's... what was it?"

"Razors-wire, I think."

"Right. Put it up around our beds. Maybe some wood spikes."

"Doesn't seem to help Lee very much."

"Maybe we could fit in a pendulum?"

"Then where would we put the pit?"

Harry watched King happily rifling through his trunk. He interrupted the debate on strategic ant-roommate defenses with, "Ah, does that happen a lot?"

"Well... let's just say that if King offers to help you..."

"...it would be best to politely decline."

"Then run away screaming."

"And brace yourself. You probably won't get far enough."

King yanked the other trunks down off the luggage rack, mangling the metal structure on accident. Ru just barely managed to launch back out of her hiding place in time. The trunks hit the floor, adding a few dents to the preexisting hole.

"Well then, we'd better get changed, then" He announced.

Harry looked around the compartment. It was pretty badly trashed. "Wouldn't it be better to go somewhere else?" he asked. Between the wrappers, splinters, sharp bits of metal and the hole in the floor, he wasn't certain they were safe here anymore.

Lady was still engulfing his upper body. He got the feeling she was fearfully watching the hole.

The twins exchanged glances. "Not so sure that's a great idea, Harry. You think you can hide your scar while you're changing?"

Harry was pretty sure he couldn't. He didn't really want to deal with all those people that only cared about the boy-who-lived. He was Harry, not some sort of incredible mythological legend. Anyway, if he was the only survivor, what in the world made people think they knew what had happened.

And then there was the other problem...

Harry nodded.

"Great! Nasty, goo-infested, completely trashed compartment of pain it is!"

"Now then, ladies, if you would be so kind!" King said, motioning towards the door. The foxes hopped right out, but it took some convincing to get Lady off of Harry. She only agreed to leave when they convinced her that there were less death-holes out in the hall.

She couldn't leave fast enough.

Harry dragged his trunk around to where the second seat had been previously. He was actually glad that the place had been so badly damaged. He could position himself in a corner of the surprisingly large compartment. He could position himself in a corner, open trunk in front of him.

Fred and George had to try and deal with a splintered floor. The damaged luggage rack hung over them ominously. King was forced to change back near the eldritch horror. The mass of mind-twisting terror didn't seem inclined to bother him again, but he was watching it closely.

No one was likely to see him changing.

He quickly pulled out his new school robes. Underclothes, socks and a tie were about harder to located. He had fished all the necessary accoutrements. He was about to haul his shirt off when he saw it.

There was a tiny elephant under the seat. It was an utterly bizarre thing to find there, but it had all the elephant things that a elephant should have. There was a gray elephant body, a little elephant tail, an elephant trunk and elephant ears. The ears were disproportionately large, but it was definitely an elephant. It even had a large, ugly bow. Harry wasn't sure if that was an elephant thing, but it seemed to fit.

It was just scaled down to 1/100th of a proper elephant's size.

It had noticed him watching it. It waggled its ears and gave him a friendly wave with its trunk.

All Harry could think of to do was wave back.

It seemed the elephant considered this an invitation. It came marching out from beneath the seat and looked around curiously. Spying the small pile of uneaten snacks, it quickly scampered across the compartment. Its path took it through the Graveyard of Eaten Snacks. The small creature made quite a racket as it plowed through the pile of wrappers.

Harry quickly looked at the other boys. King had his blazer half off. He seemed to be quite occupied with chastising the goo for something, talking to it and giving the protruding chair legs a few good whacks. The goo seemed to be trying to pull away. The twins were involved in their own argument, one of the small disagreements they seemed to have. It seemed George had accidentally put on Fred's dirty shirt, while Fred had placed his clean clothes into his brother's trunk. Now they had no idea who belonged to what and whether or not it was clean.

No one was paying the elephant any mind.

 _Look at the elephant._ Harry tried to transmit directly into George's mind. _Look at the elephant. Say something about the elephant. Let Harry know he's not crazy._

The elephant tossed several unopened packages aside. With a triumphant toot, it lifted a packaged high into the air. Harry could barely read, "Popping Peanuts" emblazoned on the package. The creature was waving its trunk around madly, swinging the snack in the air.

No one payed any attention to the elephant in the room.

It threw the package down and began wrestling with it. Unfortunately, it had absolutely no way to rip the package open. Elephants were totally lacking in thumbs or sharp claws. That made it hard for the little thing to make any progress. It would grip the treat with its trunk, but that was about it.

Harry reached down and grabbed the package. The elephant gave an angry squeal. He smiled at it, tore open the wrapper and upended it onto the floor. A handful of small treats in a variety of colors bounced onto the carpet.

Hey, it seemed like the polite thing to do. No reason to be rude just because it was a hallucination.

It gave him another ear-waggle, waving its trunk happily. It marched right over and picked up a red bit of candy. Harry supposed they were some sort of candy-coated nuts. The elephant examined it closely, then popped it into it's mouth.

Elephantine eyes bulged. Its entire body turned red for a split-second. Thick, red smoke shot out of its trunk. Strangest of all, a six-inch jet of red flame shot out of its rear. It sighed, then immediately fell upon the remaining nuts.

At this point, Harry wouldn't be surprised to learn he was seeing tiny, fire-farting pachyderms that weren't there. At this point, Harry wouldn't be surpised to learn wizards thought explosive candy that burned a hole in your pants was a good idea. We wondered which it was.

Blue flame.

Orange flame.

Green flame.

Orange again.

Another orange. It must like those ones.

Fred glanced over at Harry. He was starting to look a little dazed again. They knew how to fix him, but that didn't mean it was healthy for him to flip out. Better do something.

"Hey, Harry. What's up?"

"...elephant..."

Fred blinked and looked around. "Harry, what's this about an elephant?"

"...elephant in room..."

Scratching his head, Fred took another look around. He was pretty sure he would have noticed an elephant the first time, but it never hurt to be sure. "Ah, Harry, I'm pretty sure there's no elephant's around. They're kinda hard to miss, what with being too big to even fit in here."

" _Elephant!_ " Harry insisted. He reached down and snatched up the small creature. It gave an annoyed squawk. "Elephant. Here in hands." He held up the creature for Fred to examine.

"Oh. Wonderful." Fred sighed.

"What in the world is..." King turned from his conversation with the goo. He caught sight of the elephant. His face went completely white and he shrieked like a little girl. He leaped backwards far faster than should be possible for a boy of his mass. He crashed into the door, warping it and spraying shattered glass out into the hall. The blow spun him around, putting him face to face with the elephant again. He screeched again.

King hid under the functional seat, the same one the elephant had been under. It was really quite impressive. The gap beneath the piece of furniture was only a little more than a foot high. King, on the other hand, was considerably more than a foot wide. He slammed into the floor, which made a frightening cracking noise, then rolled straight into the little gap. The seat buckled and bent, but stayed more-or-less intact and attacked to the floor.

He began to rock back and forth, eliciting a variety of unpleasant noise from the wood and metal furniture.

George rolled his eyes. "Oh, man. That stupid thing again? Great, as if this wasn't enough of a pain, now we're gonna have to calm King down."

"Harry, that's not an elephant. That's a Trunk-Faced Squealer. It's the conductor's familiar. She lets it wander around the train and bum treats off students." Fred gave the beast a rather rough rub on the head. "Dunno what its actual name is. We all just call it Dumb-Bow, because of it dumb bow she makes him wear."

"Oh... I guess that makes sense..." Harry decided. "Uh, what's up with King?"

George shook his head sadly. "Sometimes muggleborns flip out. They seem okay, but then something little makes them go nuts. They're usually okay after that, but most of them have some kinda permanent problem because of it."

Fred gave King a few good prods. King didn't seem to notice. "King lost it when he saw Dumb-Bow in our first year. Now anything with a trunk scares the heck outta him. He's a lot worse with the Squealer, though."

"It's sorta strange. It can be pretty much anything that sets them of. There was a guy a few years older than us that started laughing hysterically anytime he saw a Chocolate Frog card."

"What about Aila? She'd never open her eyes the whole time she was on the train. Her house mates even had to lead her to the bathroom."

"There was even that one guy that actually liked Cauldron Cakes. Not even a good mind healer can cure you of something horrible like that."

"Yeah, it does some strange stuff. Like tumbleweeds sending someone on a one-way trip to la-la land." Fred nodded sagely. "It's pretty... uh.. Harry?"

"What?"

"You didn't happen to eat come Popping Peanuts, did you?"

Harry looked down at the empty package. The twins were both staring at it and looking pretty worried. "No, I didn't. The little elephant wanted them."

"You fed Dumb-Bow Popping Peanuts?"

"Uh, yeah. Is that bad?" Harry asked, concerned. He was worried that he had hurt the little thing. "They won't hurt him, will they?"

"Not really, I guess. But you should probably put him down. Quickly. Popping Peanuts tend to-"

There was a noise like a trombone clogged was jelly. It was low, wet and long. Harry felt something splatter against his legs. A _lot_ of something.

"-loosen things up a bit." George finished. "Ah, well. At least you haven't changed yet, right?"

Harry couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He was going to take _two_ long showers.

* * *

Retroactive Author's Note:

Looking back now, the clarity of hindsight allows me to see that this is where it all started to go wrong. So very, very wrong. My original plan was for chapter 3 to be the Summoning Ritual. Why don't you take a second to go up and click the chapter menu up there. The chapter titled "The Summoning" is - wait for it - the Summoning. You might notice that there's not a 3 next to it. Or a 4, or 5 or even a 6. Yeah, that's a 7 right there. So don't hold your breath, unless you're confident you can do it for 3 more chapters.

Anyway, back to the topic. You'll probably notice I get sidetracked a lot. That's because- Hey, look! A squirrel!

Watch Invader Zim. Just to it. Even if you already have, watch it again. If you haven't, slap yourself with the nearest trout and watch it. Yes, it has to be a trout. I'd recommend you thaw it first. Getting hit with a frozen fish hurts like hell. Don't ask me how I know that.

The sad part is that that's not even a joke. Unfortunately, doing shit like that to me is like bringing a Nerf gun to a nuke fight. One of my roommates ended up waking up naked in his car, child locked in the back with a car penning in either front door and a sign saying, "Free blowjobs! Stick dick in window!" on the partially-open window. The cops weren't real impressed. They even hauled him down to the station for 'drunk and disorderly' after the rest of us claimed we didn't know him.

Moral of the story: don't drink with someone you hit with a fish.

This is basically the whole story, by the way. Not the story about the fish. I mean Something Familiar as a whole. I start out trying to write an author's note and somehow end up talking about how hitting someone with a fish can end in a $172 fine and a misdemeanor charge.

Anyway, watch Invader Zim. You'll need to to get the 'room with a moose' joke.

Shit, I probably just ruined that joke for anyone who's seen Invader Zim.

So, chapter. Like I said, things took a left turn for wtf land right about here. Lady and King were supposed to be pretty minor characters, a one-off Monty Python joke. Instead, I kind of ended up falling in love with them even as I wrote this. Kind of weird, huh? Because of that, they end up being very frequent and important characters. Not so much at first, since I already had the beginning of the story sketched out, but more as time goes on.

I still have no idea where the rainbow-rectal-detonating elephant came from. I think it started with the dumb 'elephant in the room' joke and just snowballed right out of control. Like I said, that's kind of how the whole story goes. I start with "Hur, hur. There's an elephant in the room," and somehow end up with something that doesn't make nearly as much sense.

By the way, remember how I said the real story starts 100k words in last chapter? It doesn't. I kind of faked myself out there. After 197,273 words, I finally managed to write a chapter with a lot of important important things in it. Yeah, there's plenty of stuff between here and there, but most of it's pretty subtle and small. They're the sort of things that make sense in retrospect, but right now will look like nothing more than random crap.

Of course, some of it's nothing more than random crap. Later on in the story I start challenging people to try and spot the important bits. You may as well start the game early, if you're so inclined. I can tell you that there's at least three that are pretty obvious and another five that aren't in the next chapter. Amusingly, there's two that even _I_ didn't know would end up being important. As was the case with Lady and King, they were small ideas that kind of stuck.

Like Goo in a window, you might say.

...you don't get to count that as one of your five. I practically gave it to you. And if you didn't catch it before you read that, we're gonna need something larger than a Trout.

By the way, you can safely ignore these. I mention this later, but I might as well warn you now: nothing important ever happens down here. Now and then I might mention an unimportant tidbit that didn't make it into the story. Usually it's just… this. Whatever the hell this is. I just kind of write whatever the hell I'm thinking here. For example, I just thought, "Wouldn't it be funny and random if I wrote a haiku?"

Sorry, no haiku for you. I decided it would be funnier and more randomer to imply I was going to write a haiku and then not write one. Made you look.

So these can be pretty long and pointless. My personal advice is to not read them. Go learn underwater basket weaving or something. I'm pretty sure I already made that joke, but since in a chapter you haven't read I'll say it doesn't count as a reused gag. It won't count later, when you finally read it, because it was original when I originally made it. It's like… a quantum joke or something.

I'll do you a favor and not get into why I think Schrodinger was a hack.

So… it's pretty bad when I have to actually go back and read my own note to remember what I was talking about. The point is that I go off track writing every inane joke that passes through my mind down. The chapter I'm working on now involves a dominatrix. Don't rush to the end, though, since it might not even be posted yet. I like to write several chapters ahead of what I post. If chapter 22 is up, feel free to go for it.

I'd talk a bit more about how things went out of control here, but I'll probably just get sidetracked again. This not is already way to freaking long, but that becomes something of a pattern. If you feel like you just wasted your time by reading this, that's because you did.

Next chapter is where everything seriously went sideways for this story, plunging it into territory that doesn't even share a land border with the place I meant for it to be.

Seriously, though.

Don't read these.


	4. Harry Potter and the Compartment of Doom

Something Familiar

Chapter 04: "Harry Potter and the Compartment of Doom"

AKA: "Goo Gone Wild"

* * *

Harry didn't know who had supervised the planning and construction of the railway to Hogwarts, but he was going to find out. He was going to find them and he was going to make them very sad. He really didn't know how he was going to do either of those things. He'd be learning magic, though. He was sure something useful would come up eventually. Even if it didn't, he had a long life in front of him. He was the merits of dedicating the whole thing to finding and making that one person miserable.

The last leg of the journey passed through a rather large mountain range.

Muggles had solved the problem of the train-blocking mountain almost two centuries ago. Did some foolish, inconsiderate rock decide to take a nap where you want to lay some track? Drill some holes and blow it to hell! If the rock is too big to just blow apart, you bring more TNT and try again. If the rock is a mountain, you bring _lots_ of TNT and blast that sucker until it cries like a sissy. Certainly not the most elegant of solutions, but it sure was effective.

Rocks are dicks, anyway. It's always good to remind them who's in charge.

Mountains should have been even easier for wizards to deal with. Enchant the train so it can just fly over them. Teleport it past the obstructions. Make it phase straight through the rock. Turn the entire mountain into custard and summon a flock of sugar-addicted flying moose.

Or, at the very least, just blow a damn hole in the thing. How could wizards not have figured out such a simple solution?. There _had_ to be spells that blew holes in things. Harry would stake his life, mind and very soul on it. Some bored wizard, at some point in history, must have said, "I'm bored. You know, I really like blowing stuff up!". So someone in this god-forsaken society must be capable of creating tunnels at least as effectively as muggle construction workers.

The train suddenly rocked on its tracks, making a tight turn to swerve _around_ another mountain.

 _Very, very sad..._ Harry thought.

George yelped and nearly lost his footing on a empty package of Insta-Ice mints. He slid the short distance across the cabin on one foot, leaving a trail of frost. Dumb-Bow squealed gleefully. The little creature darted past George, easily avoiding his flailing limbs.

It nearly leaped right into Fred's waiting arms. Neither twin thought George would actually grab the beast, so Fred had been waiting to cut off his escape. It was very, very obvious that they'd played this little game before.

The Squealer's eyes widened as it saw where it was headed. Fred grinned. It was an expression that promised pain and untold suffering. The wood protruding from various parts of his face just made it that much more horrifying.

The train turned to the right, pitching Fred off his feet. Eyes widening in horror, he spun towards one of the jagged bench legs still sticking out of the goo. The ragged metal shone in the light, edges glistening eagerly.

"Oh sh-"

Harry darted forward and gave Fred's torn pants a good yank. The Weasley gasped as his already abused crotch was put through the wringer again. Light as he was, Harry had still thrown his whole weight into the tug. A pained gasp escaped the Weasley's lips, but, Harry set his feet and kept pulling. He could only assume that whatever pain his friend was suffering would be better than turning into a shishkabob for the Goo.

He didn't weigh much compared to the larger wizard, but it was enough to change his heading a bit. Fred hit the curtain with a relieved sigh.

Then the Goo tried to suck him in.

Unnoticed by the wizards, the bench had pushed a large chunk of the curtains into the Goo when it hit. Now there was barely a foot of curtain left on either side of the window. The rest was just pure, liquid evil. Fred had managed to land on the small stirp of curtain, but that left him right next to the exposed Goo.

Either the Goo knew King was out of commission or Fred was just too tempting of a treat to pass up. A pair of black tentacles erupted from the main mass, waving obscenely into air and sprouting small tentacles of their own. One of them managed to find Fred's arm. It whipped around, locking his arm in an inch-thick shackle of doom.

Suddenly the potentially lethal metal spikes seemed like a very good thing. For whatever the reason, the goo seemed unable to completely devour the seat. The very thing that had just nearly ended Fred's life gave him something to grab onto. There wasn't much to grab that wasn't razor-sharp and jagged, but it was better than nothing. That and Harry's fruitless pulling were all that stood between him and the sludge of doom.

"I don't wanna get goo'd! I don't wanna get goo'd!" Fred screamed desperately.

George recovered from this stumble in time to see his brother being dragged to a fate worse than death. He quickly lunged forward and grabbed Fred by the front of his pants. Throwing his body back, George pushed off with all the strength his legs could muster. At the same time, Fred twisted and drove his arm against the sharp metal. The tendril snapped and Fred was released with a slurping sound.

It was a good thing the curtains had been between him and the Goo. Harry didn't even want to think about what would have happened had Fred just slammed straight into the horror. He probably would have been gone before anyone could stop it.

That thought did not make him happy. Not at all.

Dumb-Bow leaped across the compartment, letting loose a mocking squeal.

He never saw Harry's fist coming. It slammed dead-center into the creature's face. The blow from the small boy packed an impressive amount of power. Just like how King had shown him to kick, he threw the full weight of his small body into it. Dumb-Bow shot backwards and hit the center of the damaged compartment door. It barely slowed down, crashing on through in a shower of wooden shrapnel. It continued on to punch a Squealer-sized entry point into the compartment across the hall. The occupants screamed at the sudden arrival of a high-velocity pachyderm.

The twins were gaping at Harry in shock.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry yelled. "I didn't mean to, I swear! I just wanted to grab him, but then the train turned! It surprised me and I must of closed my hand! I didn't even know until I hit him, I promise."

 _Probably_.

The twins kept staring at him.

"I... I understand if you hate me. I'm a terrible person. I hurt that poor... thing..." Harry slumped.

George stepped forward and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Are you kidding, Harry!? That was great!"

"Huh?"

Another arm slammed across George's from the other side. Fred grinned down at him. "Merlin, was it ever! Did you see the look on the little bastard's face, George? Please tell me you saw it!"

"Oh, I saw it Fred! It looked like his stupid little eyes were gonna pop right out! And the ears!"

"Merlin, the ears! They were all spread out to the sides! It looked like he was flying on his ears!"

Harry couldn't believe this was happening. People don't think hurting things is funny. Well, Dudley did, but he didn't think the twins were like that. He'd thought they were decent people, not the sort that would revel in hurting something weaker than them. "Why are you laughing? I hurt him! It's not funny!"

"Oh, Harry, Harry. Don't worry. It was no more than the little snortface deserved."

"My most esteemed brother is right, Harrikins. He just finally got what's been coming to him, that's all. Dumb-Bow there isn't nearly as innocent as he looks. The little beast manages to track down King and scare the Cauldron Cakes right outta him every time we're on the Express."

"We thought it was just a coincidence, but it happens every single time. The little bastard scares King on purpose. There's no other explanation."

Harry blinked. That didn't sound like a nice thing to do. Not at all. "Well, maybe he doesn't mean to do it. He's just a little elephant thing. He might not understand."

"You're a nice kid, Harry. But I'm afraid you're wrong."

"Dumb-Bow's a familiar. Do you think the girls wouldn't know they scared someone?"

"Even Lady. She's a menace, but she knows when she's hurt someone."

"And anyway, the conductor stops by Hogwarts a couple of times a year to talk to the headmaster."

"Dumb-Bow somehow manages to 'accidentally' run into King then, too. A whole castle, and that thing 'just happens' to run into King."

Harry frowned. That definitely wasn't a nice thing to do. It was the sort of thing his cousin would do if he was a Trunk-Faced Squealer. "Well, that doesn't mean I should hurt him..."

"No, but it _does_ mean you shouldn't feel bad about doing it on accident." George said sagely. "Being nice is nice and all, but sometimes you just need to kick someone in the bollocks."

"Can't let people walk all over you just 'cuz you wanna be a good guy, Harry. Especially if they're acting like an arse."

"We woulda clocked him one ages ago, but he's too fast. We can nail a bludger with a bat, but punching a Squealer in the face is a different story." Fred smirked. "You're riding with us from now on, Harry. I'm pretty sure that little bugger won't even get on the same car as you."

"Congratulations. You've just been recruited as King's official anti-Squealer wizard!"

"Thanks... I think."

"Oh no, Harry. This is a great honor."

"Yes, King doesn't associate with just anyone."

Harry blandly pointed out, "He hangs out with you."

"Bah! That's just because we're the only ones that'll put up with him almost killing us all the time."

"One little near-impalement and people freak out and run away from him. Sissies."

"It's really not that big of a deal. You get pretty good at dodging flying shrapnel after a bit."

"Does wonders for your reflexes. It's been great practice!"

"Ah, yes. Nothing like mortal peril to drive a lesson home." George declared. "Still... why do I feel like we're forgetting something."

"I don't know, brother. Seems like things have been wrapped up pretty well to me."

"What about King?" Harry asked. "He's... kinda still under the seat."

The twins both looked down. King was, indeed, still under the seat. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his face was buried against the wall. He was rocking back and forth while whimpering slightly. Each little motion caused the bench above him to creak dangerously. The wood frame was cracked in several places. One of the legs had already been yanked out of the floor.

"Oh. So he is."

"What a strange place for a man to be."

"Well, he is a strange man, after all."

"I'll give you that, brother."

Harry sighed. "Guys... we should probably do something..."

Fred eyed his dorm mate speculatively. "Usually we just try to talk him out of it."

"Maybe we should shove our noses in his ears? That seems to work."

"We can't actually reach his ears, brother. Also? No."

And so, with great deliberation, the brightest minds within compartment number eleven of car six decided that trying to ease King out from under the seat was the way to go. It proved to be a bit more of an undertaking than any of them would like.

They were forced to swear upon all they held sacred that the foul pachyderm had fled the area. He accepted their solemn oaths that, to the best of their knowledge, it would not return. They vowed to utterly annihilate anything possessing a prehensile nose that came within fifty feet.

The twins promised that they would not stop casting until the offender was reduced to little more than bone fragments and hunks of meat. They said they would ensure it was dead by throwing a 'sick kegger' over its still-warm remains. The mortal remnants would be crushed into a thin, red paste beneath the heels four dozed drunken dancers. There would be beer pong, a booze luge and hot witches. They would party over the abused remains until the break of dawn, just to be sure the beast didn't rise with the coming of the sun. The party would culminate in a group desecration of the vile creature's remains.

King stared. The last thing he had asked was that the other boys scare off Dumb-Bow if he came back. Everything from 'complete annihilation' to 'drunken desecration' had been all them. Still, their random foolishness seemed sufficient to snap him out of his attack. There was just something about watching the pair act like idiots that assured you everything was alright.

Finally, with a sigh and a final cautious survey of the compartment, King stood.. He didn't extract himself from beneath the seat and then stand. That sort of thing was reserved for men that couldn't accidentally tear steal apart. Instead, he worked his way around onto his hands and knees, braced himself, then pushed. The seat erupted from the ground and slammed into the ceiling, the back plowing right through the thin wood. The entire bench hung there, suspended by hundreds of long splinters digging into its fabric.

The boy casually drove his fingers into the damaged wall and pulled himself up. The abused structure creaked and groaned, obviously objecting to supporting King's weight. But it held long enough for King to stand, even if it acquired several new holes and gouges during the process.

Shaking his head, Fred said, "Seriously, King. Did a chair kill your dog?"

"That... is an odd question, Red. I don't have a dog."

"Yeah. I thought you'd say that. Let's just get changed."

The four boys looked around the compartment. It had gone way passed 'thrashed' a long time ago. Somewhere below them the familiar-swallowing death-hole remained. It was impossible to tell where it was because of the horrible mixture of empty wrappers and rainbow-colored diarrhea covering the carpet. On both sides of the compartment, the seats were gone and the floor had been reduced to a dangerous mass of splinters. The legs of a bench were still sticking out of the goo. Every time the train rounded a bend the goo would snap, thrusting the jagged legs into the room.

Harry was pretty sure it was doing that on purpose.

"So... I'm pretty sure our lives get shorter every second we spend in here." Fred decided. "Wanna find another compartment?"  
"We're half naked, filthy, we look like someone beat us with a bludger's bat and we're bleeding in a few places each. We should totally find a new compartment. They'll flip." George suggested.

King pointed out, "They will also be armed with wands."

"Oh... right... we probably shouldn't do that. Looks like we're changing in the compartment of death, then."

"Yes, it seems we must. Harry must be eager to get out of those pants. They have been rather spectacularly violated."

Harry had actually gotten so used to the warm mess on his legs that he'd forgotten it was there. When they got to Hogwarts he was going to take no less than three long, hot showers. Maybe he could find someone to borrow a nice wire brush from. He was pretty sure his skin had been defiled beyond all hope of redemption, and it's not like he really _needed_ it, anyway.

He backed into the corner behind his trunk. His fresh clothing was still lying where he had left it. The other boys would be even more distracted now, simply because they had to avoid the various dangers. He should be fine as long as he changed quick.

Harry had, however, forgotten one thing. It wasn't really his fault. Anyone in his position would have forgotten it. After all, who would really think about the face-sized hole in the wall. When he twisted to face the inside of the cabin, he put his back straight towards it.

Just a while ago the familiars, getting a bit bored in the hallway, had discovered that one of the adjacent cabins was empty. Something about having a screaming, splinter-covered face burst through the wall seemed to have put off the former residents. With some much space and comfy seats available, who would want to hang out in the hallway.

Harry never notice the pair of furry faces peering through the wall as he changed. He never noticed them carefully examining his back and leg. He didn't see the way their small eyes narrowed. He did, however, hear the faint growl that escaped from Ru.

Startled by the quiet noise behind him, Harry began to turn and see what it was.

And then the train hit a curve, just as King was putting on his pants. The boy tipped with a startled gasp, slamming into the undamaged wall. The wood paneling instantly lost its 'undamaged' status. King staggered into the center of the compartment and flailed slightly to catch his balance, accidentally twisting and driving a hip into Fred. The blow hammered him into the wall with an impressive amount of force. Fred became acquainted with the taste of wood. Again.

There was yet another series of screams. Just damaged by King, the wall was already on its last legs. The relatively small amount of force Fred hit with was enough to make it buckle around him. This created what Harry internally dubbed a 'wall angel', It was really quite remarkable likeness of the boy, though it seemed their neighbors didn't appreciate the artistic qualities of the dent.

George started laughing at the sight of his brother slowly sliding down the wall.

It was a silly thing to do, because sometimes karma works fast. The perfect tool for retribution was already right there. Ensuring his mirth would be his undoing was quite simple.

. Hearing the laughter, King attempted to turn and see what was so funny. He had to hop a bit because he was still pulling on a pant leg. The train hit another corner, tilting him off balance. The back of his hand slammed across George's face as he tried to regain his balance.

George slammed into the floor, right in the center of the rainbow poo and wrapper slurry. He was pretty sure his right buttock was actually hanging out of the hole King had made. The breeze was actually quite refreshing.

Beside his brother, Fred sighed. He was staring up at the seat in the ceiling. It was rocking in a rather frightening manner. He was really hoping it held for long enough for them to get out of this damned compartment."George? I'm pretty sure I don't like this."

"Look at it this way. At least we landed face-up. Woulda been a lot worse if we hit the other way." George pointed out. He examined his slurry-soaked arm for a moment, then let it fall back to his side with a plop.

King gave them a worried look. "Are you alright, Red? You two should really be more careful. Those corners present a rather severe safety risk!"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" George asked. He was considering staying down on the floor until King finished changing. The bench above them looked like it could fall at any moment, but it was probably less dangerous than their friend. "I've never even noticed them before. Now they're tossing us around like Quaffles."

"Musta been some sort of protective charms on the compartment. I guess we damaged them when we tore the place apart." Fred said. He was considering the same thing as his brother. Laying in the slurry was almost comfortable, in an extremely disgusting sort of way. It was even nice and warm.

"How unpleasant that must be!" King declared. "Here, allow me."

The twins went white. They hadn't even considered this. They really should have, considering how much time they spent with him, but it hadn't even occurred to them. Of course King was going to help them up. It was just the kind of guy he was. He was always willing to help, no matter how the people around him protested.

King reached towards them, murder in his eyes. Well, it was actually a very kind and compassionate look, but it hardly made a difference. Actually, murder would have probably been better. King killing you on purpose would probably be quite quick. King trying to help you, on the other hand...

"King! No!" the twins yelled together. Harry noted that it seemed reflexive, rather than something they consciously did.

"Oh, I insis-"

The train banked the other way. The floor tilted slightly as half the wheels left the track with a scream.

 _That can't be safe._ Harry thought. _What kind of psycho builds a train like this and loads it down with kids? Wizards really, really hate their children._

The twins both thanked Merlin for half-mad magical engineers. The turn sent them tumbling across the floor accompanied with a wave of sloshing slurry. They tumbled straight into the splinter forest that once supported a seat. The pain of rolling across the jagged wood was quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried in a wave of squealer juice and trash.

King wasn't quite as lucky. He tried to regain his balance. He tried like his sanity and the purity of his very soul depended on it. He failed spectacularly.

One of his feet came down a large package of candy. It was full of Greasy Gobs, one of the snacks the foxes had most enthusiastically insisted he not open. Apparently, they were exactly as advertised. Some sort of vile, oil-like juice squirted out of the sides. It shot out from under King, taking his foot with it. This left him supported on a single leg when the train made another turn.

He hit the slurry face first.

 _Why in the world did they want those?_ Harry wondered. _No one would ever eat them on purpose._

The twins started roaring with laughter. Every now and again one of them would give a pained wince, but that didn't stop them.

"Oi! That must be pretty unpleasant, King!"

"You want us to help you get up, King?"

"Oh yes. How funny. I assure you I would be laughing, but it is quite rude to do so with a full mouth." King growled. He spat several times, trying to clear his throat. "I would prefer it if- Dear God! Is that a Cauldron Cake wrapper!?"

Fred and George stopped laughing.

"Yeah, you're probably gonna be tasting that for a while. Maybe you got lucky and ate enough Squealer shite to cover the flavor..."

"I assure you, there is not enough of this vile concoction in the world."

"Popping Peanut induced rainbow crap full of trash and snack-based landmines? I'm thinking that's probably not real common to begin with." George pointed out. He was lying and staring at the ceiling again. He knew he'd have to move at some point, but he could barely feel the splinters in his butt. Once he tried to get up he'd probably be feeling them a lot more.

At least they weren't in danger of suffering seat-related death, now. The Forest of Wooden Pain was far enough to the side that the bench was no longer overhead.

King climbed up onto his feet and tried to scrape the slurry off his face. "This may well be the singular most unpleasant experience of my life."

Removing the twins from the Corner of Splintered Agony proved to be difficult. King was in a pretty sour mood. He didn't even offer to help once, which was probably a good thing. Fred and George had limited mobility. Fresh splinters were driven in every time they so much as shifted their weight. The difficult job was pretty much left in Harry's hands. It took a lot of doing (and quite a few new slivers) but he eventually got them up.

Harry spent the next several minutes helping the twins pull out splinters. It seemed it was a bit hard to change with wooden spikes pinning your close to your arse.

The sad part was that picking jagged chunks of wood out of another boy's butt was probably the best part of his day, aside from eating candy with the foxes. Things hadn't been going at all like he'd hoped. The memories he'd wanted to have certainly didn't involve grabbing another boy's bottom.

Aside from the splinters, things went amazingly smoothly. It seemed the gods had mercy after all, because the train hit a straight section of track just in time for them to change. They even managed to do so without any further incident..

"Right!" George happily said. "Let's get out of here before-"

The hanging seat fell out of the ceiling with a horrible ripping sound. It landed right in the middle of the slurry, splattering them all with the vile stuff.

"-something happens."

"Well, crap."

"Unfortunately."

Harry was going to take _four_ showers. Not one long shower, but four completely separate showers. One right after another, with the hottest water he could get. Maybe he could find some alcohol to bathe in after he used the wire brush.

Luckily they had a bit more luck the second train ran straight, there was no more furniture to assault them, and the Goo was behaving now that King was up and around. It took them mere moments to quickly whip on new clothing.

Not saying a word, George quickly turned and yanked open the door. Well, he tried to yank open the door.

The door opened about half an inch before grinding to a halt. The damage done when king collided with it had rendered it completely useless. The wood was splintered, the frame was twisted and track it slid in was completely mangled. To make matters worse, the handle tore straight off in George's hand.

"Well. That sucks." He sighed. He really couldn't think of anything else to say.  
"How many times have I told you? They're all out to get you!" King exclaimed.

Harry asked, "All? All of what?"

"All of it! Chairs, just waiting to break and spill you onto the floor. Tables that want to dump your plate on the ground! Door handles that break off in your hand and walls with lamentable load-bearing capabilities." he declared.

George rolled his eyes. "King here thinks inanimate objects are plotting against him..."

"Apparently things break as part of some conspiracy to embarrass or injure him." Fred added. He twirled his finger in front of his ear. "Like, they're all just waiting for a chance to strike."

"It is not my fault you are completely unwilling to see the truth." King sighed. "Someday you'll see. Someday. But for now, let's take care of this little hiccup. For once in my life, I am thankful for the unacceptable fragility of everything that surrounds me. Stand aside!"

The twins fearfully retreated into the far corners of the compartment. Harry followed, carefully sliding in behind George. The older boy gave him an annoyed look. It wasn't fair Harry got a meat-shield when he didn't.

Harry didn't see how this could possibly go right. Every time King tried to help, he just seemed to make things worse. He had done more damage to the compartment than everyone else put together.

The Goo didn't really count, since that was sort of a collaboration between Harry and the twins.

And now he was going to _try_ to break something.

Harry really hoped he didn't have to spend too much time in the hospital. He was really excited (and a bit queasy) about going to Hogwarts. Missing the first few weeks would suck.

King reared back, closed his hand into a fist and slammed it into the door. The entire cabin shook. The entire _train_ probably shook. The sound was like a cannon going off right next to Harry's head. The window-goo shrieked in surprise and fear. It was probably having flashbacks. It figured that King would be able to give an unnatural horror PTSD.

Harry hunched a bit, making sure George was blocking both King and the thing-that-was-not-meant-to-be. He supposed he could have just hid behind his trunk, but the redhead was closer and he'd be a better distraction if the Goo decided to eat someone.

The door splintered and bent even further. A few more bits of shattered window dropped to the floor. But it held.

King gave it a look of supreme annoyance and consternation. Fred and George stared, agape.

Fred sighed. "There's no way this is gonna end well, but you know what they say: in for a knut..."

"...in for a galleon." George finished. "This one's all you. I've gotta... uh... protect Harry. Wouldn't want the wee little thing getting hurt."  
"Yeah, sure. I bet that's exactly what you're thinking..." growled. Fred. "Oh well. Oi! King! Did you hear what that door just said?"

King glanced over his shoulder, giving him a confused look. "It is a door, Red. To the best of my knowledge, doors do not speak."

"But it's a _magic_ door! And that _magic_ door just called you a dumbass."

King twitched.

"It says you must be pretty dumb if all you can think of is punching it! You're probably too stupid to know which end a brush the paint goes on, it says?"

King's face took on a rather unpleasant purple shade.. It reminded Harry of Vernon when he was in his worst moods. The vein Harry had noticed before was even more prominent.

"It thinks you must be a pretty big disappointment to your family. An artist and an intellectual? It says that's a pretty funny thing to call yourself when all you can make is a mess!"

Fred took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He looked like a man going to the gallows.

"The door said all you should just give up, King. It says you'll never be as good as your brother."

All signs that King was angry suddenly vanished. He went from absolutely seething to completely relaxed in a tiny fraction of a second. The King was calm. Completely calm. Far, far too calm.

"I see." he said in a friendly and, above all, extremely reasonable voice. "The door said that, did it? Well! I do believe I have formulated the perfect rebuttal!"

Fred breathed a short sigh of relief. He quickly dove behind his trunk, completely ignoring the fact the he was slamming into the splintered floor.

"RHAAARGH!" King screamed. The sound was deafening. He whipped around and delivered a massive straight kick to the center of the abused door. It flew out of its track and slammed into the door across the hall with a mighty crash. Terrified screams came from the compartment.

Obviously King didn't consider this an appropriate level of punishment. He leaped after the door, landed on it and began to rain blow after brutal blow down on it. After the first few strikes it was little more than pulped wood and powdered glass, but he kept on hitting it. The car shook violently. The sound of breaking glass came from all over the place as random windows cracked from the force of the assault. King was screaming bloody murder the entire time.

King finally stood and gave what little remained of the door a dirty look. Brushing a few splinters off his hand, he walked back into the compartment. "Well, it would appear the door has bowed to my superior application of logic and reasoning. Now that this debate has ended in my favor, I suggest taking this opportunity to move to a different compartment. Please allow me to grab your trunks."

Harry gaped. He didn't know a whole lot about debating, but he was pretty sure that wasn't how you did it. It was a pretty good argument, though.

The twins also gaped. King had knocked down the door. Everyone was still in one piece. King had actually done something useful without causing horrible collateral damage.

The train hit yet another ridiculously sharp curve in the track. Beside Fred's head, the sudden shift in momentum snapped the Goo back. Over half of its mass was pushed out into the open air by the centrifugal force of the turn. A faint ripple crossed its surface. Fred noted a distinctly smug look on its... well, it looked smug.

The curve ended, throwing the Goo back towards the cabin. There was a terrible slurping noise as it violently disgorged the seat. The heavily abused piece of furniture crossed the small cabin in less time than it took to blink.

Luckily for King, the Goo didn't have very good aim. Maybe it had something to do with its lack of eyes. Whatever the reason, the bench was a bit off target. Instead of inflicting grievous wounds, the jagged legs shot by on either side of him. The center of the bench hit him square in the chest and exploded into a shower of slivers. King was ejected from the compartment and sent catapulting across the hall. He slammed straight through the door to the opposite compartment.

There were more screams.

King came stomping out to the compartment, his robes covered in glass and wood. He did not look very amused. He stopped just inside the door and pointed at the Goo. "I am not very happy with you right now. It would behoove you to behave like a good little eldrich horror and sit there quietly until we reach Hogwarts!"

A hiss came from the Goo.

"I would be happy to debate the merits of acting like a rational being with you. A good, healthy discussion would be an excellent way to pass what remains of the trip."

The goo screeched in fear.

"Oh my. What an odd reaction!"

Harry examined the remains of King's last "debate". Personally, he thought that response was perfectly reasonable.

"So we have an accord? You will behave yourself, and I will not be forced to chastise you?"

There was a soft gurgle. King figured that was as close to a "yes" as he was going to get.

"Excellent! You see how much easier things are when you behave in a reasonable manner? Now, let us depart for-"

The Hogwarts Express stopped. It did this far quicker than anything of that size and speed should be capable of. One moment they were traveling down the tracks at a break-neck pace, the next they were standing still.

Well, the train was standing still. The students in compartments that hadn't been horrifically damaged were also standing still. Even the students in the halls and restrooms barely noticed the stop. But the four boys in the completely mangled compartment?

Not so much.

Harry and the twins were pretty much fine. They had already been crouched down and braced for whatever disaster King managed to call down on them. They were rocked to the side and startled, but that was about it. King, on the other hand, was standing in the middle of the compartment. The sudden stop made him stagger. His foot managed to land square on the hole in the floor, throwing his balance off even more.

With a victorious squeal, the squirming abomination launched itself out of the window. It hit King in the head and wrapped its tentacles tightly around his skull. King stumbled backwards, clawing at the goo with all his strength. But it had a superior position and the advantage of surprise. The squirming mass was still on King's face when he staggered across the hall and through the destroyed door of the opposing compartment.

There were more screams. Harry really hoped this didn't cause some sort of long-term mental trauma.

" _Hraagh!_ "

A black ball composed entirely of horror and suffering shot back into their compartment. It hit the top of Harry's trunk with a loud splat, neatly closing the luggage. King followed right on its tail. He looked _pissed_. He tore the horror from its landing point and hurled it into the mess on the floor.

"You must behave rationally." King pointed out reasonably. He raised his foot and brought it down with a tremendous crash.

"Engaging others in a meaningful manner is very satisfying." _Crash!_

"You can forge lifelong relationships." _Crash!_

"You can forge useful connections with others." _Crash!_

"You can learn things about yourself you otherwise would have never known." _Crash!_

"You can discover engaging new activities and pursuits." _Crash!_

"You will have a more fulfilling and joyful life." _Crash!_

King raised his foot, then paused. He looked down at the mess on the floor curiously. "You know, it occurs to me that I have been hogging the floor in an impolite manner. Do you have a counterpoint you would like to present?"

The Goo made a noise that was halfway between a gurgle and a whimper.

"Well then, there is hardly any point in continuing this if you cannot present even a basic argument. Would it be acceptable to simply end this discussion here?"

The Goo whimpered again. There was a pathetic, hopeful sound to it.

King dropped his foot to the floor. There was barely any force behind it, but the Goo still whined quietly. "Well, some people... entities, rather... simply never learn!" He declared. "It's quite sad, if you think about it. Living out your entire life in a manner befitting a particularly dim animal. I almost feel bad for it. Even a god-forsaken blight upon all that lives should have higher aspirations than simply devouring living beings."

Fred shook his head. "You're a weird guy, King."

"I resent the implication that- My lord! Red, your face looks absolutely awful! It's full of splinters!"

Fred's face was, in fact, full of splinters. Actually, saying that it was full of splinters was understating the situation. Shards of wood varying from a full millimeters to several centimeters covered in his entire face. It looked like a fistful of splinters had gotten a bit of redhead on them.

"Jeez, Fred. Doesn't that hurt?" asked George. "I think some of those go down to the bone..."

"Oh, it's okay. I can't even feel it." Fred giggled. He reached up and gave a particularly large splinter a flick.

"Seriously? You can't feel those nasty splinters?"

"Oh, no..." Fred said softly. He looked at his brother with wide eyes. "I mean, that too. But I meant I can't feel my face. I can't feel my nose, or my ears, or my cheeks, or my hair, or even my whiskers."

"Those aren't whiskers, Fred. They're horrible and probably disfiguring bits of floor. And you don't normally feel your hair." George groaned. "When'd you stop feeling your face?"

Fred thoughtfully stroked his chin. It looked like he was tugging on his wooden 'whiskers' in though. "It was when I hit my face. I think it was the sevond time it happened."

"Uh... sevond?"

"You know, the number that comes after eleventeen. Are you feeling okay, George?"

Harry tugged at George's robes. "George... how many times has he been hit on the head?"

"Oh. Crap."

King gave the concussed wizard a frown. "Perhaps we should get him some medical attention. And we'd best make sure-"

One of the luggage racks decided that this was the perfect time to give in to the damage it had suffered. There was a sharp ping as one side snapped loose from the wall. The metal rack whipped around in a silver blur and slammed into the back of Fred's head.

He giggled.

"-he does not suffer any further head trauma." King finished. "Well, I'd say we failed at that in a rather impressive fashion."

"Let's just get him to Madam Pomfrey. If he gets permanent brain damage, people'll be able to tell us apart."

"King? Is it okay to stand there?" Harry asked, pointing at the floor As worried as he was for Fred, this seemed at least as important. "Because I think you should move."

"Oh, have no fear, Harry. I believe that the vile sin against all that lives has been properly cowed this time."

"Well, that too. But I think you broke the floor a bit when you stomped on it. It's all saggy."

King shrugged. "Even if this frail construction is unable to support me, the train has stopped. Falling to the ground is hardly a concern."

George made a disgusted face. "Harry's trying to tell ya that you're standing ankle deep in a lake made of Squealer crap, Goo, garbage, Greasy Gob discharge and probably more than a little of Fred's blood."

Blinking, King looked down. The floor had indeed sagged at some point during his friendly discussion with the Goo. Everything had flowed into the center of the compartment. He could see wrappers and multicolor Squealer discharge. The filling from the Greasy Gobs he had stepped on was floating around like an oil slick. Chunks of glass, wood and metal bobbed around like carrots in a rather disgusting chicken soup.

Now that he thought about it, he could quite clearly feel the substance leaking into his shoes. His trousers were sodden to halfway up his shins. The bottom few inches of his robes had vanished into the liquid. They were obviously a complete loss.

Fred and George had both been splattered a bit by his enthusiastic stomping. A large chunk of the vile brew as sliding down the front of George's robes. It left a very distinct trail with an oily sheen.

"Perhaps we should get changed again?"  
George snorted. "Yeah, that's a great idea. Maybe it'll go better the third time."

"Yeah. Let's not do that." Fred muttered. "I like my head. It helps me move my toes." He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers.

George grimaced. "Right you are, Fred. Let's just grab our junk and let's get out of here. I feel like every minute I spend on this train is stripping a day off my life."

"Are you sure we should be moving him just now? I've often heard that it is not wise to move the injured."

"I think it's probably a bit more important to get him outta here before something else clocks him one."

"But moving him around may make matters worse. If we just stay here and send someone for-"

"King? Buddy? Do you really wanna find out how this place is planning to screw us over next? They're probably already rounding everyone up already, so we should just go while we can. Plus, if we stay here much longer we'll get blamed for this."

"Well, it is our fault, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I don't really see the need to get blamed for it." George shrugged. "And we just made a mess. You tore the place apart. Do you really wanna explain that to McGonagall?"

"Right then! I'll grab the trunks, so you just guide your brother out. Harry, follow along!" King said with an innocent smile. He somehow swept two of the trunks up onto his shoulder, quickly reached down, and tossed the remaining trunks up with them. He looked absolutely absurd with four trunks spread across his shoulders and arms.

It also made him a bit wider than the door, not that that mattered to him.

Harry followed the older boys out the newly-widened compartment door. He had mostly been protected by George's body, but had still been splattered a bit. He decided that he was way past the point where a shower would help.

Did wizards have something like battery acid?

* * *

Retroactive Author's Note:

Okay, seriously. What the hell did I just tell you? You shouldn't even be looking at these words right now. You should have moved on to the next chapter the moment you saw the word 'author' next to the word 'note' and never even bothered with this. I only write these because I'm willing to bet that someone somewhere out there enjoys them. People enjoy a lot of strange things. Like hitting people with fish, for example.

Screw Tony. He deserved everything we ever did to him, and the blowjob car wasn't even the worst. When we moved out, the rest of us lost our $700 security deposits because he just left all his filthy hippie crap out there.

I know someone just took offense to that. I have no problem with hippies. I've got some really good friends you could consider hippies. I do, however, have a problem with filthy hippies. I have a problem with filthy anything, but filthy hippies are worse for some reason. You can commune with nature without skipping the shower for a week, dumbass.

You can tell I wrote this back-to-back with the one before because I'm still pissed about the fish thing.

I got off track before I even got on track. I think that's a record.

Two major things happened here, but you'd have to be blind and stupid to miss them. Not blind or stupid, blind and stupid. They're that obvious. If you needed me to tell you that, you might want to read the first sentence of this paragraph again. Pay special attention to the bit after the comma.

I'm pretty sure I just offended another someone right there.

SEGUE!

Thanks for the review, Nathalie. I hope I got this up before you read it.

That was in no way related to the blind and stupid comment, by the way. I'm actually working on the assumption that you're intelligent, refined and very, very attractive. You must be, considering your fine taste in literature.

Some smaller things happened, but most of them won't pay off until year 2. I'm almost a 200,000 words in and I just barely got ot Halloween. So… you do the math.

We may or may not get there before you die. Depends on your health, I guess.

The splinters thing was pretty horrible. I mean, I _winced_ when I wrote that.

I feel like I should warn you that things start getting a little stranger after this. A little low-brow, too. Explosive diarrhea is a pretty major part of the plot. There's also some sticky balls and someone molesting a sock drawer. Draco rides the shaft, there's a great many bad touches, and something that comes really close to being lesbian rape. Cho's taken both a wand and a sausage to the face, and she's been covered in sticky body fluids on more than one occasion. There's one golden shower, possibly two. The words 'show me on the doll' and 'there's no toys in the van' are used.

I'm a little ashamed to say that not a bit of that paragraph was untrue. I think I need to rethink my life. I've probably got some kind of unresolved issues or something. That might explain my inexplicable hatred of owls because yeah, that's a thing. Freud would probably say I want to sleep with my mother. He said that about a lot of things. Makes me wonder if he had a thing for…

Nevermind. Too obvious, even for me.

Anyway thought I'd give you a warning. That's probably not even going to cover the worst of it, either.

Useless author's note.

Such a dumb waste of your time.

Go do something else.

Bam. Haiku. Bet you thought I forgot about that. I'm, like, some kind of genius artist or something. I should be a writer. Maybe post some shit online.

I should probably go get some sleep. This is getting pretty pointless and random, even for me...


	5. Safety Hazards

Something Familiar

Chapter Five: "Safety Hazards"

AKA: "Mr. Tentacles Strikes"

* * *

 _I'm going to die._

Harry had been starting to wonder what his chances of reaching adulthood in the wizarding world were. It seemed like he'd been in serious danger of physical harm ever since he'd stepped onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Flying trunks, potentially lethal candy and unnatural horrors would forever dominate his memories of the day.

Now, stepping out onto the platform, he was finally _sure_ he was going to die.

The "platform" looked like something straight out of one of Dudley's slasher films. Harry could practically feel the cold steel of a sharp blade sliding into his spine. Where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had been a shining wonderland of brass and polished wood, rust and decay dominated the far side of the route.

The platform itself was little more than a bare concrete pad poured out in the middle of nowhere. It was cracked and worn from years of neglect. Large pits and deep cracks covered the surface, catching at unwary feet. Stray sticks and leaves littering the platform made these minor hazards difficult to see and avoid. Harry could just barely see the edge of a large, dark stain beneath a pile of debris.

 _It's just from somebody's drink._ Harry told himself. _Somebody must have dropped their drink here. Lots of drinks are red and sticky. It could be anything, really._

He shivered as that imaginary blade slid in a bit deeper.

An old, decrepit lamp struggled to light the broad concrete was mostly made of rust at this point, and it didn't do its job very well. The dim light flickered and cast crazed shadows across the concrete as the lamp buzzed and flickered. Beneath the lamp there were two piles consisting mostly of rotting wood and twisted metal. Harry assumed they had once been benches of some sort, but it was more of a leap of logic than anything.

The students were steering well clear of the dangerous-looking debris. Many of them had seen Fred's face, and they all agreed that wooden piercings weren't the new look.

Above them. a full moon rode high in the sky. It was just barely visible through the thick fog that was pushing in on the platform. The brightness of the moon gave it an eerie, luminescent glow. It pressed inward, trying to force its way in as if it were a living thing. The dim light from the lamp was just bright enough to halt its advance. For now.

The knife twisted. Harry wondered what part of the body made the best trophy for a serial-killer.

Fred and George strode boldly out onto the platform ahead of him. George was in the lead, forging ahead with a firm grip on his brother's robes. It was a good precaution considering how his heavily-concussed brother kept trying to wander off.

Harry slowly climbed off the train. If the twins were heading out without hesitation, it had to be safe. Either that, or the twins were too injured and distracted to realize they were walking into the jaws of doom. There was a pretty good chance it was safer to be out here than in the train either way. Harry had a hard time believing there was much out there that was actually worse than the Hogwarts Express. If nothing else, there was probably less soul-devouring Goo out there.

"Damn it, Fred! Walk in a straight line!" George snapped.

"I am! Stop moving the damn line!" Fred snapped back.

"Line? What line? It's a figure of speech. I mean put one damn foot in front of the other and walk!" He spun around to glare at his brother. Whatever else he was going to say to the other Weasley twin was lost as he caught sight of something behind Harry and paled. "Ah, Harry? That might not be a great place to stand."

"What? Why?" Harry asked weakly. _Probably because something's about to kill me._

"Because King's right behind you, and he's having a bit of a struggle with our trunks."

There was a splintering sound from behind the first-year. He whirled around in alarm and immediately thought, _Oh, look. I was right._

King had, indeed, had been having a hard time with their trunks. His four-wide load proved to be just as difficult to get through the disembarkation door as it had getting through the compartment door. The walking disaster had somehow managed to get his cargo halfway through before figuring this out. Now he was wedged with one foot flailing in the air outside the train, unable to move forward nor back.

King grimaced. His head was pinned between the trunks, preventing him from slipping out from between them. It was a very uncomfortable position that was very quickly wearing at his patience. Considering how his day had gone so far, he didn't have much left to begin with..

Gritting his teeth, King slammed his rear foot into the stairs. The structure gave way with a loud crunch. Using that brief moment of leverage, he jerked forward. The trunks came free of the door with a horrible shriek, tearing and warping the metal portal as they went. For some reason surprised by the sudden movement, King lost his grip on all four trunks.

Much like with Dumb-Bow, Harry didn't even think about his reaction. It was like a signal was sent straight from his eyes to his limbs without even giving his brain a by-your-leave. His legs went out from under him, plunging him towards the ground. He caught himself on his hands just an inch from the ground. It proved to be just enough, just in time. A trunk actually tugged at the back of his robes as it went by.

George had just enough time to say, "Really?"

The first trunk - George's own - shot towards him at a potentially devastating clip. The redhead's reflexes being somewhat slower than Harry's, there was little he could do. His own luggage slammed into his jaw with devastating force. His familiar abandoned ship just before the impact, leaping from his shoulder to the trunk. She watched her wizard do a complete flip from the force of the impact. There was a very amused look on her face, though Harry wasn't whether it was from the ride on a ballistic trunk or at seeing the look on her wizard's face as he flew.

Fred's trunk hit its owner just a moment after George's, giving him a fraction of a second to react. Seeing the trunk coming he, unfortunately, decided not to dodge. He set his feet and roared a battle cry instead. Tightening his abs and flexing his torso, he dared the approaching chest to strike him down.

The trunk accepted the boy's challenge. It barrelled into him at full speed, hitting with a mighty crunch. Harry was really hoping that the crunch was from the trunk and not the redhead's ribs. Fred was pushed back several feet by the impact. Despite the mighty blow, he remained standing. The trunk hung suspended in midair against his chest for several seconds.

Harry blinked in surprise. Fred was obviously a lot tougher than he'd thought.

"Whaaag!" Fred screamed in victory. "No luggage shall defeat me!"

The trunk, finally running out of kinetic energy, fell to the ground and landed squarely on Fred's foot. The boy squealed in surprise and tried to leap backwards. This didn't work so well, considering the hem of his robe was firmly pinned under the large, wooden box. His panicked leap became a sudden fall as the tug at his robes pulled him off his feet. He went down hard, his jaw catching the edge of his trunk and then slamming into the concrete.

Harry winced in sympathy. He was pretty certain that the horrible noise he'd just heard hadn't been the trunk this time...

King's own trunk had flown wide and somehow managed not to take anyone out. Instead, it had impacted the lamppost with terrible force, producing a terrible clang that caused half the students to scream or dive for cover. A shower of rust fell on one side of the platform, quickly followed by a shower of King's belongings. The impact against the pillar of rust had torn a corner off the trunk and emptied half its contents into the air. Boxers, books and small figures with wobbly heads rained down on the panicked crowd.

It made Harry feel extremely guilty when he realized his trunk had come out unscathed. It had landed rather neatly, sliding to a stop against the abused streetlight with a barely audible clank. It had even landed right-side-up and everything.

One of King's bobbleheads descended from the sky, slamming into Harry's trunk and bouncing off the lid. Somehow, despite being very top-heavy, it managed to land on its feet. It stood there in the center of his trunk, giving him a smug smirk and wobbling its head lewdly.

King gave a long-suffering sigh and walked out onto the platform to recover his wayward belongings. This elicited a frightened squeak from the other students, who quickly backed up. They formed a sort of zone of denial around King. No student seemed willing to get within fifteen feet of him. The bubble moved with him as he shuffled around, some students even braving the edge of the platform and the mist beyond in an effort to avoid him.

Sometimes the danger you know is, in fact, worse than the danger you don't.

 _It can't possible be in the center._

Harry felt so bad for his new friend. I mean, sure, the guy was a walking engine of destruction that practically breathed collateral damage, but he was a good guy. He didn't do it on purpose. To see the other students acting like they were upset Harry quite a bit. He could practically see the word, "freak" on their lips.

 _I have to do something. I have to make this better._ Harry thought. _I have to tell them that King's a good guy, that he- there's no vascoing way it could be in the center!_

Harry, for a moment ignoring the rest of the platform, stomped up to his trunk. The bobblehead was still sitting on the top. It was still giving him that smug smirk. It was still in the _exact_ center of the lid.

 _I have to fix this. I have to fix this. I have to help King. I have to fix this. I have to- Oh! I know!_ Harry perked up. The most amazing solution had just popped into his head.

" _Wrong!_ " Harry screamed. "You shouldn't be _there!_ Stop mocking _me!_ "

He reached out and grabbed the handiest heavy object he could see. It was perfect, sized just to fit his hand and pleasantly top-heavy. It was as if God himself had granted the bludgeon unto Harry, so that he might better smite cheeky little statues.

Not one to turn down a gift from God, Harry brought his makeshift weapon down with all the might he could muster. Though he was a bit on the small side, his bludgeon was quite good. It hit with a loud crunch that echoed across the platform. Loud as it was, it was hard to tell if it was from the plastic figure breaking or the top of Harry's trunk caving in.

Harry decided that it was better safe than sorry. He brought the weapon down again, even harder than before. Then he slammed it into his trunk three more times, just to be certain. By the last swing it was pretty obvious that the whole top of the trunk was about pulverized.

He stood there panting, surveying the damage. The lid of his trunk was definitely beyond repair. It was little more than a splintered carter. Happily, the bobblehead wasn't in any better shape. It had been reduced entirely into fragments which were now embedded deep in the wooden wreckage.

 _Serves you right, you filthy plastic mockery of man._ Harry grinned. _Let all who sin against the laws of probability be punished._

Someone coughed.

Harry froze. He had completely forgotten that there were other people with him on the platform. What he'd just done slowly sunk in.

He had just completely flipped out. He had just attacked his own trunk like a madman, while screaming at a small, plastic figurine. Every student in the school, the very students he'd be spending this year and every after with, had watched him act like a raving maniac.

If this _was_ a slasher movie, there was a good chance that _he'd_ turn out to be the killer.

 _Well, at least no one's paying attention to King now. Mission accomplished, I guess. Job well done, Harry. Now that they already think you're a maniac, you may as well go back and torch the train. God knows it has it coming._

A boy a few years older than Harry pushed out from the crowd and marched up to him. He stood directly in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and an angry look on his face.

 _Wonderful. Here it comes. He's going to call me insane. He's going to say I shouldn't be here. He's going to say I'm a…. freak. A freak among freaks…. Uncle Vernon would laugh so hard if he knew._

"Hey!" The boy snapped, causing Harry to start. "You've got stones!"

"What?" Harry asked dumbly. That really hadn't been what he was expecting.

"Are you deaf? You've got stones."

"Uh… thanks? I think…?" Harry said slowly. He was a little confused at the moment. Were bobbleheads some sort of dangerous threat in the wizarding world? Had he somehow just done something great and brave on accident. "I mean… it was just a little plastic thing. It didn't put up much of a fight."

"What?" The older student asked. Obviously one of the two was very confused. Harry had the feeling it was him. "No, fool, I meant that you have Stones. My familiar, Stones!"

Harry looked down at the makeshift bludgeon he was still holding. As it turned out, the "handle' was actually some sort of arm made of rock. The "head" of the weapon was an actual head. It looked like a rough cut piece of stone the size of a bowling ball. The only real difference was that most bowling balls didn't have two large, blue eyes. Harry vaguely noted that there was another arm on the other side of the head.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Harry cried in shock.

He released the thing immediately. Instead of falling, it hovered into the air under its own power. It stopped at head height and gave him a curious stare. Luckily, it didn't seem offended that he'd just crushed a piece of luggage with it.

"What on Earth were you thinking?" The other student demanded. "You can't just up and grab someone's familiar like that!"

"I'm really sorry! I am! I don't know what happened. I saw that _vile thing_ and I just lost it. I just wanted something to hit it with. I didn't know I was grabbing a…. that." Harry gestured at the floating rock. It wasn't quite up there with Lady, but he certainly wouldn't complain about having something so cool as a familiar. "She has very nice eyes." he blurted without thinking.

The rock blushed.

"Yes, she does." the boy agreed. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that you simple went nuts and... oh. You're one of those, aren't you?"

Harry tried to swallow a lump in his throat. "One of… what?"

"You're a muggleborn, right, kid? Never saw magic before a few weeks ago?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, it can come as a bit of a shock. I'm a pureblood, so I wouldn't know myself, but some muggleborn have a hard time at first. Don't worry though, it'll get better as time goes on." the boy shrugged. "Either that or you'll end up in St. Mungo's with your own personal mind-healer. Could go either way, really."

"O...kay…" Harry slowly said. He didn't quite follow everything the boy'd said, but some of it sounded bad. "Look, I really am sorry. I hope I didn't hurt her."

"You're joking, right? Stones is made of rock. It'd take a lot more than a little first-year to hurt her." the boy laughed. "Hey, how'd you know she was a girl, anyway?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No, it really isn't. Most people assume she's a species that doesn't have gender. She's a rock, after all."

"Oh. Well, I thought it was pretty obvious. You can tell just by looking at her."

Stones blushed again.

The older student stared at Harry for a moment. "You're a weird one, aren't you?" He shook his head. "Look, I've gotta get back to my friends. You seem like an okay kid, so try not to go insane and no more smashing things with familiars. See you later, first-year."

"Um… bye."

The older boy wandered off into the crowd. Stones floated along behind him, cheerfully waving both arms the whole way. She didn't even seem to notice the student she accidentally brained.

"Oh dear. She really should be careful." King said from right beside Harry.

The younger boy yelped and whipped around. Given the havoc he wreaked, it was easy the forget King was actually on the thin and light side. Apparently he had a pretty light step when he wasn't destroying things.

King sighed and looked down at Harry's trunk. "Alas, but poor Picasso now strongly resembles a self-portrait."

"King, I'm so sorry. That was yours, right?" Harry asked. Up until now, it hadn't really occurred to him that the disgusting thing had belonged to his friend. "I'm really, really sorry. I'll replace it…. somehow."

"Oh, don't let it worry you, Harry. To be honest, I've never been a great admirer of Picasso. His works are all so pretentious and obtuse." King soothed. He gave the lid of Harry's trunk an experimental poke. The wood crunched and collapsed under his finger.

"But I-"  
"But nothing, Harry. We all have our own foibles, and it is up to our comrades to accept them. Besides, I only packed him because of his irrefutable status as one of the great artists. Now that he is gone, I shall have room to bring Bob Ross next year. In my opinion, he is much more deserving of being immortalized in plastic."

"As long as you're sure…"

"There are no mistakes, Harry. Only happy little accidents. Of course, should you destroy Mr. Ross in such a manner, I would be somewhat displeased."  
"Just don't let him get on my trunk, and I think it'll be fine." Harry said reasonably. "Um… not that I have much of a trunk…"

"Then we have an accord. Now, where are Fred and George? We must get Fred medical attention immediately."

Harry pointed. King looked.

"Good lord! What on Earth are the two of you doing on the ground?"

Fred groaned. "Damn it, Harry. I was hoping he wouldn't notice. Why do you think I left the floor on top of me? So I could hide, that's why."  
"The floor isn't on top of you, brother. You're on top of it. It's under you, which is generally where floors are supposed to be."

"No. No. You're wrong, George. It's on top of me. I can feel it laying on my chest and face."

"That's because you're face-down, Fred."

"Ooooh. I guess that makes sense."

"Dear, dear. You two are having quite the disagreement with gravity today, aren't you?" King asked, walking over to them. "Let's get you on your feet and see if we can't keep you there."

"I know we should scream in fear, but it honestly doesn't seem worth it." George sighed. "I'd rather not die out of breath."

"Hasn't helped yet, and I'd rather not scream in the floor's ear. It seems impolite, considering how hard it works to keep us from from falling."

"Right. Up you go." King reached down and grabbed them by the back of their pants.

The twins sighed in resignation. George worked his hands under his body and tried to get a good grip on the front of his waistband.

There was a wet splat.

King froze, his muscles already half-tensed to lift the twins to their doom. Something about that splat had sounded familiar. Temporarily releasing the twins (and getting a pair of relieved sighs in return) he turned to survey the platform.

Lady was standing next to his destroyed trunk, looking around curiously. After a moment of searching, she located a stray sock sitting on the concrete platform. With a triumphant bounce she snatched it off the ground. Even from twenty feet away Harry could see drops of water falling from the suddenly sodden article of clothing. She proceeded to give King a happy wave, then rammed the sock back through the ragged hole in his trunk.

Splat.

Harry and King just stared for a moment, giving the water elemental time to locate and return three more socks and a pair of boxers. King twitched slightly with every splat.

"No! Lady, please my dear! We have discussed this!" said King forcefully, striding toward his familiar. "When you pick up such things, you must not get them wet. You certainly should not be placing them with the rest of my clothing and books once they are completely sodden."

Lady allowed herself to be shooed away. It was a little hard to tell, but Harry was pretty sure she winked at him on the way.

"You know, I might actually be starting to like the watery tart." George commented.

"I bet a tart would taste better than this floor. Eww… did someone spill their drink here or something?"

"For Merlin's sake, brother. Roll over. That can't be good for your face."

"I… I think being alive isn't good for my face, George." Fred sighed. "I'm pretty sure I'd hurt less if I wasn't so warm and movey."

"You realize King would be at your funeral, right? He'd probably insist on helping carry your casket."

"Oh. Even in death I suffer beneath the reign of our cruel King."

"Does this happen a lot?" Harry asked.

"Well, Harry, I have a bed with my name over it in the Hospital Wing."

"I have two. Just in case they put George in mine on accident."

"Oh."

"Really, though, he isn't usually this bad. He gets worse when he's distracted."

"King without his family is like a face without a floor. They make him all warm and squishy, kind of like the Goo. I'm pretty sure they don't try to eat him, though."

"I guess that makes sense…?" Harry muttered. The idea of someone _not_ wanting to be away from their family was totally beyond him. "Must be nice."

"What was that, Mr. Balzak?" Fred asked. Harry thought he might be raising an eyebrow, but the fact that his face was still pressed into the concrete made it hard to tell.

"Huh? Oh! Nothing!"

George frowned. "Well, 's kinda funny then. 'Cuz it sounded like-"

His comment was interrupted by several shrill screams.

"I should go see what that was!" Harry said quickly. He hoofed it quickly away, figurative tail tucked between his legs.

George sighed. "I think our odd little friend may be a little more than odd."

"I'd probably agree, but I'm having a bit of trouble thinking. I think the splinters are poking my brain. It actually feels kinda nice."

It was pretty easy for Harry to make his way up to the edge of the platform. Everyone else seemed intent on going in the opposite direction. They were all quite eager to surrender their place in exchange for the opportunity to move further back. It took him mere moments to reach the front of the crowd, giving him a clear view of what was causing the ruckus.

It wasn't the Goo, at least. That much was certain. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

A point of red light was bobbing its way through the fog, approaching closer with every passing moment. The bright light was painting the thick mist a thousand shades of ominous crimson. Every now and then the floating light would make a loud rapping noise. It looked to Harry like the very gates of hell had opened, releasing a demonic guide to escort them in. That sharp click was probably the end of his scythe striking the ground.

The image filled Harry's head. It was a tall, think figure in a ragged black cloak. In one hand he held a skull-shaped lantern on high. The other loosely gripped the shaft of a scythe. Its wicked blade would be angle just right to take a child's head.

Bob, click. Bob, click. Bob, click.

Harry scratched his head, confusion momentarily overcoming his fear. He knew that sound. He knew he'd heard it somewhere, and it hadn't come from a scythe. It had been just recently, he was sure, but he just couldn't place it.

A figure emerged from the fog, causing another series of screams. The man was huge beyond huge, to the point where he barely qualified as a man. His thick platform shoes only made him seem that much larger. A purple crushed-velvet suit was fitted neatly to his form, its outturned lapels revealing a lurid tiger-print pattern. Thick gold chains hung around his neck, and a huge wide-brimmed hat sat on his head. One hand supported a burning lantern, while the other held a gold-capped cane.

"Oh. Hello Hagrid." Harry greeted. _That's_ where he had heard the sound before. Hagrid's cane had sounded a bit different on the streets of Diagon Alley, so it had been a bit hard to place.

"Good evening yourself, young Harry. I say! You look like you've taken a bit of a hit to the bone box!" Hagrid declared, clearly alarmed.

Harry self-consciously rubbed a hand against his cheek. It did, indeed, hurt a bit. His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought about the twins. _No bruise my skinny rear._ "It's okay, Hagrid. I just got into a fight with an elephant, I think."

"Fizzing! I must say, you are a bit of a bully trap. No surprise you'd get into a bit of a scuffle here and there. I take it you gave the rapscallion a good what-for?"

"Yes, Hagrid. I'm pretty sure I did. He seemed pretty what-for'd, anyway."

"Excellent! You look as poor as Job's turkey, but I'd wager you pack a wallop! It's not the size of the dog in the fight, after all. Believe me, I've the biggest dog you've ever seen and he's a bit of a sissy." Hagrid sighed. "Alas, but we all have to pocket our lads' flaws.

Regardless, I've not come for idle chit-chit. All you young ladies and lads - first-years - come and gather around. It's my most solemn duty to escort you to Hogwarts, and honor bright I shall do it!"

The other first-year students hesitantly gathered around Hagrid. They seemed to take some comfort in the fact that Harry had been talking to Hagrid for nearly a minute and hadn't been eaten yet.

"Right then! Good lads. Now, off we go!" Hagrid spun around and marched back into the mist.

Harry quickly leaped off the platform and scurried after him. He really didn't want to hesitate and lose sight of the large man's lantern. It was rough going as it was, traversing the uneven and rocky terrain. The light of Hagrid's lantern reflecting off the fog actually made things worse, but he didn't dare lose sight of his only guide.

It was a truly terrifying experience. Harry's world essentially ended five feet away. He could see absolutely nothing beyond, and the thick mist absorbed all sound. It was like he was on a tiny fragment of land floating in a sea of red clouds. For all he knew the world actually _did_ end five feet away. It's not like he'd be able to tell the difference.

He tried to catch up to Hagrid, but it proved to be a lost cause. The man's large feet and solid base made him impervious to the terrain. All Harry's rushed attempt to catch up got him was a short trip. He decided the ground wasn't a very good vacation spot and decided to move a bit more carefully.

At least Hagrid was clearly trying to set a reasonable pace. With his long legs, he could have outpaced the first-years in an instant. Unfortunately, his idea of a reasonable pace was still blistering fast for a eleven-year-old.

Just as Harry was starting to lose his breath, the fog began to thin.

 _Oh, good. That'll make things easier. Now I can-_

The ground vanished.

Without so much as a by-your-leave the path turned down sharply. _Very_ sharply. The previously flat - if uneven - trail became a forty degree incline between one step and the next.

Harry couldn't hold in the startled squawk as he suddenly found himself pitching forward. Fortunately, whatever reflex that had allowed him to dodge a flying trunk was still working. Twisting around in midair, he somehow managed to get his feet back under him. He had no idea how he'd managed it, but he did. Instead of flying ass-over-teakettle down the slope, he only slid several dozen feet.

The student just behind him wasn't nearly as lucky. He shrieked as he hit the slope (making Harry hope he hadn't sounded so funny) and hit the turf face-first. His fall instantly turned into a roll, his pudgy form picking up speed at an alarming rate.

For just a moment, Harry considered trying to stop him. That thought quickly died as he took in the the boy's size and speed. While not even close to Big D, the kid was definitely on the heavy side. If Harry got in his way he wouldn't be helping anyone, just bringing his own Hogwarts career to a short and tragic end. He'd be nothing more than a sticky spot on the trail.

Harry felt bad about dodging. He really did. But he was also quite grateful for whatever it was that made it so easy. It was almost like the other boy was moving in slow motion, except he clearly wasn't. The way the wind tugged at Harry's robes as he went past made that clear.

Harry managed to get a very clear look at the other boy's horrified, panic-stricken face as he shot by. Another pang of guilt shot through him.

Fortunately, the path was still littered with obstructions. A smattering of trees and rocks made sure the rolling boy couldn't take a straight path to the bottom. Bouncing off them was probably not a good feeling, but it sure beat hitting the bottom of the trail at Mach 3. Even being turned into a human pinball was better than being splattered across the landscape. Eventually the boy got _really_ lucky and ended up lodged in a bush about halfway down the trail.

If you could really consider that lucky, that is.

Harry quickly skidded down the to bush in question. It took him a bit, since he was trying very hard not to become the shrubbery's second occupant. There were probably easier routes down the trail, but he was determined to get to the bush. He may not have been able to stop the boy's fall, but he could at least do something about this. He slowly crouched down and slid up next to the shaking greenery, carefully avoiding the boy's flailing feet.

"Hey, calm down, okay?" He ordered. "I'm going to help you, but I can't if you kick me in the head."

The boy immediately stopped flailing. He peered out of the bush with obvious shock on his face. "You're… going to help me?"

"Of course. Is it really that surprising?" Harry asked. He tried very hard to ignore the fact that all his fellow students were just passing them by without even a second glance.

Maybe it was surprising, after all.

It took Harry several minutes to free the other boy from his bushy savior. The shrubbery's branches had gotten wound around his limbs, their large thorns digging into his robes. Actually, they were probably digging into more than that, based on the pained hisses the boy emitted when Harry removed some of them. By the time he was finished, the last students were already passing them..

"Um… thank you very much. I'm… ah… I'm Neville Longbottom." The boy said, hesitantly holding out a hand. "I'm very sorry you had to waste so much time helping me."

Harry slowly took the other boy's hand. He was pretty sure he'd never actually shaken hands with someone before. "It wasn't a waste, Neville. I'd like to think someone would help me if that happened. They probably wouldn't, but it's a nice thought."

"I'd help you." came the immediate response.

Harry smiled. "Well. I just hope you're around if I fall, then. Actually, why don't we help each other right now? Hang on to me, and maybe we can catch up without falling to our deaths."

Neville nodded.

It turned out that descending the hill together was much easier than doing it alone. Neville provided Harry with a solid anchor as he picked out their path. Despite his earlier fall, the boy was extremely sure-footed. Even if he did begin to waver, Harry's reflexes allowed him to quickly straighten them out.

Hanging on to each other, they actually managed to pass the last few students on their way down the hill.

Harry and Neville both gasped in wonder as they hit the bottom of the hill. The sides of the trail suddenly widened, giving way to a beautiful beach.

Harry had never seen anything like it before, not even on the telly. The sand along the shoreline was the purest white imaginable. It glowed softly in the moonlight. There wasn't a single stick or stone on it to marr the view.

The beach faded into a lake that was as black as the sand was white. In the calm night there wasn't even the slightest ripple across the water. It looked more like a massive, bottomless pit than a lake. Even just looking at the water, Harry felt like he was falling into it. It was simply amazing.

Far across the lake, a massive edifice sat on a low mountain. It was large enough to dwarf the huge hunk of stone it sat on. Given the distance and the now thin mist,it looked like nothing more than a massive silhouette looming over the lake.

Crimson lights burned in the windows, winking and shifting like red eyes. Towers with conical roofs reached for the sky. There were sections of wall here and there, their top lit by more torches.

There was also a large group of some sort of winged creatures flying around one tower.

Harry gulped. _Not bats. There's no way the dark, evil looking castle has bats flying around it._

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite manage to convince himself. He began subtly looking around for something he could turn into a stake. A few of the branches he'd snapped off Neville had been sturdy and thick. Now he was kicking himself for not keeping one.

How was he supposed to know he'd have to defend himself against the undead?

"Absolutely smashing, wot?" Hagrid declared. "Now then, we can't hang around for a month of Sundays. The gaffer'll go spare if we're late for your Sorting. In the boats, lads! Four at most!"

Harry looked at the 'boats' dubiously. They looked like little more than oversized washtubs. They were floating barely a few inches out of the water and seemed to b e mad primarily of splinters and rust.

He sighed. He was beginning to wonder if the Wizarding World was primarily made of sharp bits of wood, metal and glass. It was certainly starting to seem like it. Still, there wasn't much for it. He'd have to ride in the boat if he wanted to get to the castle that was also probably made of sharp bits.

And anyway, it didn't really matter at this point. While not as bad off as the twins, he was already sporting quite a few splinters himself. Adding a few more to the collection wouldn't really be a big deal. Aside from the pain, of course.

Easily hopping into the boat, he turned and helped Neville clamber in. A few moments later they were joined by a young witch.

"Alright, then. FORWARD!" Hagrid bellowed, rapping his boat with his cane. The fleet of little boats surged forward as one, darting out into the lake as one.

The trip across the lake was almost relaxing. It was a nice change from the mind-numbing horror and threat of impending physical harm that had comprised most of the journey so far. The water was as smooth as glass, not even the slightest rippled marring its surface. It was so dark and smooth that it was like traversing a massive, bottomless void.

An enormous eye opened beneath the boat. Harry gasped and jerked his fingers out of the the water. It had been so close that he could _feel_ the slimy surface beneath his fingers.

"Yurk!" Harry exclaimed, jerking his hand out of the water. He quickly twisted around and tore a massive splinter out of the side of the boat. The sudden movement made the small vessel rock dangerously, allowing a small amount of water to slosh over the side. Paying his suddenly wet robes no heed, Harry whipped around to look back over the side with his new harpoon raised high.

The eye was gone.

"Don't _do_ that." The girl protested. "Now my robes are all wet!"

Harry continued to search the dark water. "Well, it's better than being eaten by some sort of cthulhuian horror, isn't it? Because I'm pretty sure I saw tentacles, and it wouldn't be the first time something tried to eat me. It wouldn't even be the first time today."

The girl immediately brightened. "Oh my. You've read Lovecraft?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. The library had been one of the few places he'd been safe from Big D and his gang. Unfortunately, the librarian had been quite strict about not letting people simply loiter around with no purpose. As a result, he'd taken to reading whatever random books he happened to take off the shelf.

It was actually quite remarkable how interesting a treatise on the effects of the lunar cycle on aboriginal cooking trends could be when you knew certain doom awaited outside.

"Why, that's quite remarkable. Lovecraft's writing is quite advanced for children of our age. I've read it, of course, but I've always been told my reading comprehension was far beyond my age." She rambled. "In fact, I have the entire collection at home."

"Okay." Harry said simply. He really wasn't sure what he was supposed to say here.

"Oh, how silly of me! I'm Hermione Granger. And you are…?"

"I'm Harry Potter." He answered. Pointing at Neville, he said, "This is Neville Longbottom."

It only seemed polite to try and include the other boy in the conversation. He'd been quietly sitting there, looking slightly awkward and out of place.

" _You're Harry Potter!?_ " both Hermione and Neville exclaimed at the same time.

Harry rubbed his ears. "You know, I really hope people don't do that every time I say my name. I think it's probably going to get old fast."

"I read about you in _Dark Lords Through the Ages_ and _A Brief Recount of Modern History_. You defeated the last dark lord. You're practically living history!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

"I guess."

"What in the world do you mean, 'I guess'? How in the world can you be so blase about accomplishing something so amazing?"

Harry sighed. "Because _I_ didn't really do anything, did I? I was a baby. What could I have possibly done. Now people scream my name and try to touch me, all because I laid in a crib and managed not to die."

"When I was a baby, I fell down the stairs and broke my gram's favorite vase. She doesn't blame me for it though, because I was really little and didn't know any better. It's kind of the same thing, right?" Neville said helpfully. He immediately regretted it when both the boat's other occupants turned to stare at him.

"You fell down the stairs as a baby?" Hermione asked, aghast. "You could have been _killed_. Wasn't anyone watching you?"

"Well, I wasn't really a baby. I guess I was two or so." Neville responded. "And my Uncle Algie was watching me. I guess he got distracted and didn't notice I was by the stairs."

Something about the way Neville said his uncle's name made Harry twitch.

"Well, that's just completely irresponsible. Someone like that shouldn't even be allowed _near_ a child, let alone placed in charge of them. Why, if I-" Hermione glanced over the side of the boat. A massive eye stared back from just beneath the water.

There was a high-pitched shriek and the sound of tearing wood. In an instant the girl went from sitting down to standing in the center of the boat, four foot length of splintered wood held high.

Harry examined the boat with interest. There was not a single part of it that was four feet long. How in the world did she manage to produce a makeshift harpoon of that size?

He looked at his little two foot hunk of wood sadly. It was really more of a stake than a harpoon. He was a little jealous, honestly, but at least he was prepared for vampires now.

"Big eye!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry shrugged. "Told you."

"I… I think I just peed myself." the girl whimpered.

"Um… Don't worry. It's probably just water from when Harry almost sunk us." Neville reassured her.

There was a long pause.

"Yes…. yes, that's definitely what it is. Definitely."

"Ah, yeah…" Harry said slowly. "Either way, I'm pretty sure the horror from the depths is gone now. You might want to sit down."

"No! That's probably exactly what it's waiting for!"

Harry really wanted to argue the point, but it _did_ seem like a reasonable assumption. "Well, okay. But you might want to duck a little."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, her eyes never leaving the dark water.

Harry shrugged. "Because we're about to be eaten by a mountain." he stated. He watched with trepidation as they approached a cave in the side of the mountain. The curve of the roof looked very much like the top of a mouth, and the hanging stalactites definitely gave the impression of teeth. It certainly didn't help that there were a pair of deep depressions above the cave. They, of course, looked like dark, staring eyes.

Hermione wavered for a moment, clearly not sure whether she should be watching the water or looking back at the ominous cave. A faint ripple in the water caught her attention, making the choice for her. She had actually seen the beast in the water, after all, and had no intention of getting cozy with its tentacles.

Something about that thought made her shudder.

"Fine. Why don't you guys watch the mountain, and I'll watch the water. It'll be a team effort." she said reasonably. "Just give me some warning if something happens. I'd rather not get any more… water… on my robes."

Harry shrugged. It seemed reasonable, but didn't seem like it was going to do much good. The Goo had almost eaten both Fred and George, neither of whom had been descending into its gullet of their own volition.

At this point it didn't really matter, though. The boat was entering the cave, giving Harry no recourse but to pray to every god he'd ever heard of. He was really glad he'd read all those books. Surely one of the eighty-seven would be willing to help.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry that took so long. I was combating a major case of writer's block. On the upside, I did manage to work on another project in the meantime. If you enjoyed this and have some free time, give my first original project on. It's a comedy about superhumans that aren't quite cut out to be heroes. Here's the link, in case you're interested: s/3301496/1/Not-Quite-Heroes


	6. Sort of Interesting

Something Familiar

Chapter 6: "Sort of Interesting"

AKA: "Bodily Harm Ahead"

* * *

It came as a great relief to Harry that the mountain did not, in fact, try to eat them. He made a mental note to write eighty-seven thank you letters as soon as possible.

Not that he was letting down his guard, of course. The inside of the cavern was just as ominous and uninviting as the outside had been. It was dark, the only light coming from dim lanterns set in the wall at far intervals. It was damp, constant dripping sounds echoing in the hushed silence. Looking at the moist, gleaming walls, Harry had little trouble imagining this as some mighty beast's gullet.

If it were a mighty beast, the creature in question might want to see some sort of mighty beast doctor. Harry wasn't sure what you'd call that, but they had to exist.

The inside of the throat- ah, cave was spotted with large, tumorous growths of stone. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, waiting to catch the unwary student in the face. There were rock shelves coming from the walls at just the right height to take your melon off. Every now and then there would be a crash and a scream as someone's boat slammed into a stalagmite.

It was a minefield of peril that had left most students huddled low in their boats and clinging on for dear life.

Not Hermione, though. She was still standing in the center and glaring defiantly back at the lake, harpoon held high. Obviously she considered Mr. Tentacles a greater threat than anything in the cave.

Harry was a little annoyed by this. If the mountain _did_ turn out to be hungry, he figured he'd have a better chance against Mr. Tentacles than several million tons of stone. At the first sign of trouble, he was planning on diving overboard and stealing her weapon as he went. It wasn't quite sporting, but it wouldn't do her any good when the mountain ate her, anyway. It'd be something akin to getting a popcorn kernel stuck in your teeth.

Unfortunately, she was still holding it in a white-knuckled grip. She seemed intent on keeping it at the ready, just in case a tentacled horror dared to enter the cave. It was obvious that she was intent on ignoring a (literally) larger threat.

That seemed quite foolhardy to Harry. Just because the mountainous monstrosity hadn't attacked yet didn't mean it wouldn't. It had already scored several hits on the other students with its head-destroying death-spikes. Those stalactites packed a punch. If that was what it could do without even trying, Harry didn't want to know what would happen if it got hungry.

He wasn't getting fooled again. He'd seen what a perfectly innocent window could turn into. One minute pleasantly showing you the outside, and the next trying to eat your friend's face. It hadn't looked even a little threatening until it became the Goo.

The mountain already had a face. It wasn't a very nice one. If a window could become the Goo, then this thing…

Harry shuddered. He was starting to wonder if he was going insane. Suspecting that a hunk of stone was plotting to eat you couldn't be normal. Maybe it was a normal effect of joining the wizarding world? Did possessing magic drive every semblance of sanity from your brain?

"Harry." Hermione whispered. She didn't look away from the vanishing entrance. "Are you quite alright?"

"Uh… yeah, fine. Just peachy. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're looking a little pale. I thought you might not be feeling well." She explained. "Also, I can help but notice you keep glancing at my harpoon. I don't like how you're looking at it."

"That is a vile accusation. How could you possibly accuse me of plotting to steal your harpoon? You barely glanced this way." Harry gasped. _Hey, wait. She's not looking. Wouldn't that make it easier?_

Neville groaned.

"I… didn't actually accuse you of anything. Thank you for the warning, though." Hermione's hand tightened on the shaft of splintered wood. It groaned dangerously beneath the power of her grip.

"I wasn't going to steal it. Really, I wasn't. I was just going to borrow it without permission and with no intent to return it. I- oh." Harry paused. "Okay, so I was going to steal it, but only a little. I was going to leave my stake, so it'd be a trade."

"And exactly how do you 'steal something a little', Harry?"

Harry used his stake to rub his head embarrassedly. "Well, it's not like you'd miss it after the mountain ate you."

His two companions stared at him, Hermione even turning away from the vanishing entrance for a moment.

"Harry…" Neville said slowly. "You were kidding when you said that, right? You don't mean you seriously think the mountain is going to eat us, do you?"

Harry nodded. "Why do you think I'm getting ready to jump out? I don't know if it'll make a difference, but I figure I've got a better chance if I swim for it."

"You were just going to abandon us!?" Hermione demanded, aghast.

"Hey, when terrain features start chowing down it's every man for himself." Harry reasonably responded.

"Mountains don't eat people, Harry." Neville soothed. "Not even really powerful magic could make that happen. They just don't do it, Harry. Mountains _do not_ eat people."

"Neither do windows." Harry said.

"Uh, right. Very good Harry. Windows don't eat people either." Hermione said. She gave him an encouraging pat on the head. She carefully held her harpoon as far from him as she could.

"Except they _do_ , Hermione. I've seen it." Harry whispered with wide, horrified eyes. "I admit that that was probably a special case. I may have accidentally summoned an unnatural horror from beyond the far side of time…"

Hermione blanched at the horror held within his eyes. Neville, who wasn't facing him straight-on, just gave him an odd look.

"Hey, the twins helped!" Harry whined defensively. "So if windows eat people, why not mountains?"

"Okay, you know what? Fine." Neville reached down and drove his fingers into the soft wood of the boat. There was a horrible tearing sound as he yanked it back up. He handed Harry a jagged length of wood saying, "Here. You have one too, now. Now you don't have to 'borrow' Hermione's and we can all be friends."

Harry took the mass of decrepit wood reverently. "You're a good friend, Neville."

The larger boy beamed. "Well, it's not like I pulled you out of a bush or anything…"

"Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry I didn't help you." Hermione said softly. "I saw you, but I couldn't quite stop. I hope you can forgive me."

"That's okay. I wasn't expecting anyone to help me, really."

"That's terrible! People should- ack!"

Hermione squeaked in shock as Harry lunged at her. She reflexively tightened her grip on her harpoon. It quickly became clear that it wasn't his target, though, when he grabbed her robes instead. Before she could react, he dragged her into the bottom of the boat.

"Harry!? What are you-" Hermione started to shriek.

A large, thick stalactite passed over the boat. It was a foot wide and had a nasty point on the end. It was also just the right height to smack a eleven-year-old in the head.

"See? Told you it was going to try and kill us." Harry said smugly.

"Thank you. I do appreciate it, but really? Do you really think that piece of inanimate rock was deliberately aiming for my head?" She sighed. "Would you let me up now?"

Harry obliged, allowing Hermione to climb back into her seat.

"Honestly, you can't just grab a lady like that. You scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry. It just came out of the dark. There wasn't time to say anything." Harry apologized. "It's not like I was trying to do anything bad."

"Yes, well, _I_ didn't know that. I thought you were trying to steal my harpoon!"

" _That's_ what you were worried about!?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Well, he as much as admitted that he was going to steal it. Isn't it reasonable to assume he may still have ill intentions?"

"Why would I steal your harpoon? I have my own, now." Harry said reasonably. "Why in the world would I need another one?"

"Well, perhaps you just like mine better. It is quite nice, you know."

"Oh. No, don't worry. I like mine much better. It's bigger and everything." Harry stated. He admired his harpoon.

Hermione stared at Harry's harpoon. It only took her a second to decide he was right. The tip, though blunt, looked like it would pack considerable penetrating force. It was big enough around that he could barely wrap his hand around it, and was quite long. She immediately decided she wanted to get her hands on it.

"Harry…" She said sweetly. "Would you like to trade harpoons with me?"

"What? No way! Mine's way better."

"Harry. Give it to me."

"No!"

"Give it to me, Harry! Right here, right now!"

"No way. You couldn't handle it, anyway."

"Give it to me or I'll take it! I can take it, Harry, just watch me!"

"Oh, for crying out loud." Neville sighed. He quickly yanked another length of wood out of the bottom of the boat. Either by accident or design, it was roughly the size of Harry's harpoon. " _I'll_ trade you."

Hermione quickly grabbed his wood. "Oh, Neville! It's beautiful. Thank you so much." She said, stroking the shaft. "Harry's right, you are a good friend."

Neville blushed.

"And you're pretty strong." Harry said, impressed. He waved his harpoon a bit. "It can't be easy to just pull up a hunk of boat like that."

"Oh, it's not a big deal. Uncle Algie makes me hold weights over my head. He keeps putting more on until they fall and hit me. Pulling up some wood isn't nearly as hard."

"They hit you!?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, yeah. When I can't hold anymore they fall and land on my head. I guess that's the point." Neville sighed. "He got really creative sometimes."

Harry frowned. It seemed like his initial assumption was correct. Uncle Algie sounded a lot like Uncle Vernon.

"That's terrible! Why on Earth would he do that to you?" Hermione demanded.

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "My family was really scared I was a squib. He tried all kinds of stuff to get me to do some accidental magic. I did bounce that one time when he dropped me out a third-story window, but he thought that might have just been an inherent spell."

"What's an inherent spell?" Harry quickly asked. He managed to cut Hermione off before she could express any further indignation. He, of all people, knew that was the kind of thing you didn't want to talk about.

"Yes, what is an inherent spell?" Hermione repeated. It seemed like a simple question like that could easily distract her. Apparently all you had to do was dangle a bit of information in front of her. Harry filed that under 'useful things to remember'.

"It's sort of a spell that you just… have." Neville said vaguely. "It's part of you, like a magic creature's magic is. It's just something you do, sometimes even without meaning it."

"Oh? Interesting. How do you get one?"

"I don't really know. You do have to be born with it, but other than that… Gran won't talk about it. She just mutters about human-like familiars and inappropriate behavior."

"What sort of-"

"Hey, maybe that's why King is so cinnapurple." Harry said suddenly. "He must have one of those!"

"Cinnapurple?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "Now with sunshine."

"Right. I swear, the longer we sit here, the weirder you get." Hermione muttered.

There was a sharp crack from behind them. Several students screamed, nearly drowning out the sound of shattering wood. Several splashes came immediately after.

Harry stared at Hermione.

"Coincidence." She declared. She didn't seem all that sure of it herself.

"Coincidence or not, we should probably keep an eye out for bloodthirsty death-rocks."

Hermione nodded. It didn't even seem worth protesting anymore.

With Hermione convinced, they spent the rest of the trip quietly looking out for hazards. It was a good thing, too. They had to steer away from several stalactites, and several massive spikes hanging from the ceiling nearly took Hermione out. She continued to insist they weren't aiming for her, but by the end of the trip she was pale and suspiciously watching the ceiling. Even a cynic comes around if you hit them with enough evidence.

In this case, there was a serious danger of said evidence hitting the cynic in a very literal sense.

Eventually they emerged into a large, well-lit cave. For a moment, just for the slightest moment, Harry felt a bit of relief. But just as he began to relax, he got a good look at the cavern.

Four massive figures made of rough-cut stone loomed above them. They had to be at least three stories tall, reaching all the way to the high ceiling. Each had a single massive object made of bronze. To the left, a large, barbaric man held a metal sword. To the right, an elegant woman had a bronze crown perched on her head. The slim statue across the cavern was lifting a metal amulet high. The final figure was proudly holding aloft a… cup?

Harry blinked. _Err… okay._

The enormous statues loomed over the boats as they crossed the cavern. They looked down on the student, stony gazes silently judging them. Harry half expected the barbarin to lift his sword and smite them at any moment.

He was starting to think he was developing some sort of complex involving inanimate objects.

A sudden wet feeling distracted him from his fears. It seemed his shoes had suddenly become rather sodden. Well, more sodden, anyway. They were already quite wet from when he accidentally dumped some water into the boat.

"Err… Hermione? You didn't… uh… get some more water in the boat, did you?" he asked.

The girl in question blushed bright red. "No! Of course not! Why would you even ask something like that?"

"Because my shoes are wet. Actually, now it's almost up to my knees." Harry said with interest. Looking down, it quickly became obvious that there was a foot of water in the bottom of the vessel. "Oh, that makes sense. I probably should have noticed that from the start."

"I think it was the statues." Neville decided. "Don't worry. I almost got water in the boat, too."

"Could we please stop talking about that?" Hermione pleaded. "Please?"

"You know, I'm pretty sure it's getting higher." Harry said. "We should probably do something about this."

"I don't understand. Why in the world are we sinking?"

Neville subtly eyed the large hunks of wood Harry and Hermione were holding. Suddenly he was wondering if tearing chunks out of an already questionable boat had been a good idea. "I have no idea. Weird, isn't it, that we'd start sinking for absolutely no reason?"

"Okay, guys? My rear is wet now. We seriously need to do something."

Hermione eyed the stone pier the boats were slowly approaching. "Can you guys swim?"

"Yeah."

"Uncle Algie helped me learn."

"Uh, good. Because I'm pretty sure we're not going to have a boat in a few seconds."

The ancient boats carrying the first-years bumped up against the low stone pier. The rickety transports made an array of unpleasant crackling and crunching noises as they struck the stone. Hagrid quickly hopped out of his boat, allowing the poor thing to bob up a good three inches in the water, and strode out onto the stone surface.

"Alright you lads, everyone out!" he declared.

There was a brief flurry of motion as all the student quickly vacated the boats. There wasn't a single one of them that wanted to spend a moment longer than necessary in the vile things.

"Right then. We… oh dear. Harry?" Hagrid quickly searched the pier. "Harry? Oh my. If I've lost you, the professor'll give me a conk to the bone box for sure. Harry?"

"Here." came a weak voice.

A wet hand emerged from the water and slapped down on the stone. Several more followed it a moment later. Harry, Neville and Hermione clambered up onto the stone pier with some difficulty. The three were, obviously, soaking wet. They were also sans robes and quite a bit of outerwear.

Luckily, they were otherwise intact.

"Good lord! What in the world happened to you?" Hagrid demanded.

Harry sighed. "Our boat decided to sink for some reason."

"Mysteriously." the sodden Neville added.

"Well, I'm absolutely chuffed to see you." Hagrid announced. "What happened to your clothes? You're nearly in the buff!"

Hermione blushed. At least she'd managed to keep her undershirt. This would most certainly be a lot more embarrassing if she hadn't.

Harry, oddly, was wearing the most clothes of all. That struck her as a bit strange. Being a boy, he could shed quite a bit of clothing and still be considered decent, after all. Neville was a perfect example. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of skivvies.

The poor boy was blushing even brighter than she was. Just because it was more or less socially acceptable didn't mean it wasn't embarrassing.

"Have you ever tried to swim with a robe on, Hagrid?" Harry asked wearily.

"Oh. Yes, I see. That'd be a something of a dodgy bit." Hagrid nodded. "I'm absolutely chuffed you're alright, but I'd appreciate it if you warned me before you go for a swim.. You just gave me a serious case of the collywobbles."

The large man strode over and pulled off his coat, whipping it around Hermione. It looked like she was wearing an enormous, purple tent. A moment later his undershirt was draped around Neville.

Harry smiled a little. Hagrid had been his first friend, and he was quite glad. The huge man looked scary, but had a heart of gold in his massive chest.

"Don't worry, Hagrid. No more sudden swims for me. I have no intention of ever getting near those things again." Harry announced.

Neville nodded. He looked quite a bit happier, now that he was properly covered again. Well, sort of properly, anyway. The bright yellow shirt was large enough that the hem was dragging on the ground. "Right. What good is a boat that suddenly sinks for absolutely no reason?" he agreed.

"Well, I'm quite thrilled you saved me a shiner. It looks like we're still missing a few, though. We'd best wait a moment."

"Um… Isn't that a bad thing? I mean, we made it here okay, but it wasn't that far. What if they're still out there in the water?" Hermione asked from somewhere within Hagrid's coat.

"Not to worry, my dear. The lifeguards will help them if they've hit a bit of hard cheese."

"Lifeguards?"

Even as Hermione spoke, a loud screaming came from further out into the cave. Two young girls came into view, bobbing in the air several feet in the air. It looked like they were simply floating above the water. As they came closer, however, it became obvious that was not the case.

Rather than floating, each girl was being held aloft by a dozen thin tentacles. The supple extremities were easily holding them high in the air.. The girls were screaming and thrashing, desperately trying to escape their saviors. It was a good thing the slimy tentacles were wrapped so tightly around their limbs. Instead of escaping and plunging themselves into the water, all they managed to do was smear mucus all over their bodies.

Behind them, a boy drifted along easily. Only half as many tentacles were supporting him, most likely because he wasn't fighting them. He actually seemed to be enjoying the ride. He was looking around curiously, alternating between checking out the cavern and studying the lifeguard's limbs.

"That looks _so_ wrong." Hermione decided. Something about the scene made her shudder.

Harry and Neville nodded.

The lifeguards reached the pier and unceremoniously dumped their cargo onto the stone surface. There was a wet splat as their slime-covered bodies hit the floor. A moment later, the boy was gently placed beside them. He turned back and raised his hand, smiling as three separate tentacles slapped across his palm.

"Wicked." he whispered. He looked like he was seriously considering jumping back into the water.

"Wait, why didn't they help us?" Harry asked.

Neville scratched his head. "Well, to be fair, we weren't that far from here when our boat spontaneously sank. For no reason."

Hermione shuddered again. She, personally, was perfectly fine with not having been through that particular experience. There was a good chance _she'd_ be having nightmares about it. She couldn't even imagine how those poor girls must feel.

"Right. I'd say that's about everyone." Hagrid announced. He frowned slightly as his eyes swept the gathered crowd. Something about it seemed off, but he couldn't quite place it. He carefully counted the students again, just to be sure.

Yep. He definitely had as many as he'd started with. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong, but there was nothing for it. If he was any later, the professor would really blow her top.

"Alright, then. Follow me!" He yelled, turning towards the stairs leading into the castle.

Harry sighed as he took his first steps into the castle. He wasn't sure how, but he had actually made it to Hogwarts without dying. He hadn't even been horrifically maimed, which was definitely a plus in his book. Yes, things were looking up. Now that he was actually starting his life as a wizard, things could only get better.

Right?

* * *

Mr. Tentacles gave a watery sigh. He loved the first day of the year. So many new first years to scare the crap out of. He'd gotten nine this year, which was a new personal record.

It was too bad the day was so short and only came once a year

* * *

It occurred to Harry that he was laying down.

For some reason, he appeared to be completely prone, lying flat on his back. He was obviously in some sort of bed, judging by the mattress under him. The thin, uncomfortable, lumpy mattress. It felt like it was probably a hundred years old and probably hadn't been that comfortable to begin with. It also had a rather unpleasant musty smell.

Harry couldn't think of one good reason he'd be laying on some nasty, old mattress. Of course, he couldn't think of a good reason for the pain, either.

His entire body felt like someone had taken a bit of rough-grit sandpaper to it. Every inch of skin felt severely abraded and slightly burned. Even with years of Harry Hunting under his belt, he'd never felt anything quite like it. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt, but it was among the most unpleasant.

And what in the world was that odd weight on his chest?

Harry opened his eyes. Two slitted emerald orbs stared back at him. A small, black face was peering at him from just inches away.

Well, that explained the weight. It was probably a good thing the fox was almost unbelievably light, otherwise having her there would have hurt.

"Hello, Ru." he said quietly.

The fox tilted her head and blinked at him in response.

"You know, you're really going to have to teach me how to do that. Do you have any idea how much extra blood I'd be able to keep in my body? And that's a good place have your blood, just in case you were wondering."

Harry turned his head with some effort. For some reason he felt a bit sluggish. His body didn't seem to be moving quite like he wanted it to, and even that small motion caused a dull surge of pain.

He was in a room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Metal lanterns hung from the roof, casting a bright light across the room. The walls were made of large stone bricks. Shelves and cabinets full of vials and strange tools filled one end of the room..

It was the beds that really struck him, though. Both walls were lined with them. Ugly beds with metal frames and thin mattresses, presumably much like the one he way lying on. Between each was a simple partition with a curtain that could be drawn for privacy.

There was a redhead perched on the edge of the next bed over, leaning forward and watching him.

"George?"

"Aha. See, that's a lot less impressive." George declared. "I don't have any horrible face wounds, so obviously I'm George. You've got to try harder than that Harry."

"George, why am I in a hospital? This is a hospital, right?"

"Yeah, this is the Hospital Wing, Harry."

"What am I doing here? How did I get hurt?"

George frowned. "Well, Madam Pomfrey did say the Concussion Recovery Potion might cause some temporary memory loss. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Tentacles and creepy statues."

"Right. Well, I can't tell you right after that, but I can tell you what happened at the Sorting."

* * *

George was annoyed. Despite his protests, they'd forced him to attend the Sorting. It didn't matter to them that his brother was in the Hospital Wing with 472 splinters, a broken jaw, a busted nose and several cracked ribs. It didn't matter to them that he'd much rather be there with him than watching a bunch of firsties get sorted.

No, he had to be there. It was tradition. Nothing else mattered other than the fact that a bunch of dead people had done it before him.

He glared as hard as he could as Professor McGonagall carried the Sorting Hat across the Great Hall. He was kind of hoping he could burn a hole through the ratty piece of headgear through sheer force of will. They'd regret forcing him to be here if _that_ happened, wouldn't they?

Sadly, either his will was too weak or the Sorting Hat was too strong. It made it across the hall without suffering a case of sudden combustion. George sighed as the Professor set it down on the stool. Maybe he was going to have to practice that. After all, Apparition was basically moving yourself somewhere else with Being able to put fiery holes in things with the power of his mind seemed like it could come in useful.

In the center of the hall, McGonagall shivered. Something horrible had just happened. She didn't know what or where, but she was sure of it.

The hall was silent, everyone watching the hat as they waited. There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. Even the first years, most of whom had no idea what the hat actually was, were staring at it expectantly.

Several minutes passed. Nothing happened.

Finally, just as McGonagall was getting annoyed enough to give the hat a kick, it wiggled. There was a faint snore.

The professor twitched. " _Hat!_ " she snapped.

"Snrk. Huh! What? What the?" the hat exclaimed. "Where in the name of the Great Tailor am I!?"

McGonagall twitched again. "You are in the Great Hall, Hat, because are _supposed_ to be performing the Sorting _right now_."

"What? The Sorting? Is it really that time already?" it asked. "Look, could we do this later? Now isn't really a good time."

Twitch. " _Not a good time_? You're the Sorting Hat. Your sole purpose is to perform the Sorting. How could it possibly not be a good time!?"

"Well, I was having this wonderful dream, y'see. I was in a high-end clothier's with a pair of twin berets. It was… well… I don't think I have to tell you what those berets are like." The hat wiggled suggestively.

McGonagall glared. George was almost certain the hat began to smolder.

 _Damn. Figures Professor McGonagall would know how to do it._

"Right! Right! The sorting! Of course it's time for the sorting! Alright, who's up first?"

"Hat. The song."

"Huh?"

"You are supposed to sing a song to begin the year. I'm beginning to think you're being difficult on purpose."

"I would never! Right… so… song."

So I may look like a nasty piece of cloth

But believe you me, that's not quite true

Yes, I've felt the nibble of many a moth

But I've just as much vigor as when I was new

So step right up, kids, and throw me on

Give me a moment to pick through your brain

Just a little peek, oh precious spawn

You have my word there'll be no pain

There're four houses in these great walls

And in just one moment I'll toss you in one

So who's colors'll you wear in these halls

Deciding that's my only source of fun

Gryffindors are slow, they've rocks for brains

They're all too stupid to avoid a fight

Those Ravenclaws can be real pains

Talking and talking, they just love to cite

Loyal Hufflepuffs are all about the cliques

Jumping of the bridge with nary a thought

And those Slytherins can be real pricks

All about loyalty, so long as it's bought

I'll take a look at what's wrong in your head

Hop right up, and you better make it quick

All these students are waiting to be fed

So don't just stand there playing with your-

" _HAT!_ " McGonagall snapped. Even halfway across the hall, the sound was enough to make George wince.

"What? You wanted a song, I gave you a song." the Sorting Hat declared smugly. "Can we get on with it now? I'd really love to get back to my nap."

The professor stared at the hat through narrowed eyes. "We _will_ be discussing this later." she practically growled. She withdrew a large scroll from her robes. "When I call your name, sit on the stool and place the _hat_ on your head. Abbot, Hannah!"

After that point, George pretty much tuned out the Sorting. It had been so amazing and interesting when he'd been a first year. However, he'd discovered last year that it wasn't nearly as interesting when you weren't part of it. In fact, it was downright boring.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

 _Oh yeah, real mystery where that little bastard is going._

"Malfoy, Draco! Step forward!:

It was just then that something occurred to George. He couldn't help but give a slight snicker. Draco was probably going to have a hard time hearing his name being called from King's Cross Station.

"Mr. Malfoy, please… Where is Draco Malfoy!?"

He wondered exactly how long it would take them to separate the blonde ponce from Ron once they were found. Him and Fred _had_ used Faber's Fabulous Fastener to glue their lips together. That stuff was some Serious Business.

For that matter, what would Malfoy senior think when he saw his son? They'd done a rather nice job of making him up like a painted whore. Fred had even insisted on using the good everlasting cosmetics, so that stuff wasn't coming off easy. There was no way he'd get it off before his father saw him.

There was a heated powwow going on down at the professor's table. It was clear no one knew quite what they should be doing. It wasn't like a student vanishing enroute was an everyday occurrence.

Finally, McGonagall strode back into the middle of the hall. "For the time being, we will be continuing the Sorting. The Aurors will be informed that Mr. Malfoy is missing and a search shall be conducted. Rest assured, he will be found."

 _Bummer._ George thought sourly. He went back to tuning out the sorting, until…

"Potter, Harry."

The redhead immediately perked up. Now _this_ was interesting. Harry hadn't been quite what he would expect, but he was definitely okay. Anyone who dared sass him and Fred was good in his books. Hopefully he'd end up in Gryffindor.

Harry spent a long time sitting on the stool. Like, a _long_ time. In two and a half Sortings George had never seen someone take that long. He couldn't help but wonder what it meant.

Finally, the hat yelled out, "Gryffindor!"

Fred leaped up on the table, threw back his head and gave a triumphant howl.

"Mr. Weasely!"

Hopping off the table, he called, "Sorry!"

He totally wasn't.

* * *

"So, that's basically how it went. Some other random crap happened, but it's not worth going into a lot of detail. I found out you made friends. I embarrassed you by screaming to them until they came and sat with us, then embarrassed you some more." George gave Harry a cheeky grin. "We agreed that brightly colored tents probably weren't going to be a fashion trend. Then I embarrassed you some more. The girl - Harmony? - regaled us with a detailed analysis of the physiology and habits of water elementals. It was great. Really riveting stuff. Then I embarrassed you. I'm pretty sure you tried to kick me under the table then, but you got King instead. You weren't too happy about that, but I thought it was funny as hell." George held up a hand as he took several huge breaths. "Any of this ring a bell?"

 _You could be great in Slytherin. You really could._

 _No. I don't care. I want to be with my friends._

"Uh… not really. I guess that's why my foot hurts, though."

"Yeah. You broke two toes. How hard were you trying to kick me, exactly?" George gave him an accusing look before continuing, "Anyway, I can't really tell you about the rest. I left as soon as the Sorting was over. Wanted to be up here with my idiot brother, you know." George pointed to something on the other side of Harry..

With some difficulty, Harry turned his head. There was someone - presumably Fred - lying in the bed next to him. The fact that his face was completely covered in bandages made it a bit hard to tell for sure.

"Fred?" Harry asked.

"Aha. See, we've been over this. I'm over here, so obviously he's Fred. The horrific injuries give it away, so that little trick isn't very impressive." George shook his head. "But yeah, that's Fred. He took a helluva beating, but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be fine."

"Oh. That's really good."

"I'll say. That last hit had me really worried. I was afraid that trunk pushed his nose right up into his brain. It doesn't work that good to begin with, so that would be a bad thing for sure."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he examined Fred. "Fred's nose doesn't work?"

"..."

In a very unusual occurrence, George found himself at a loss for words. He studied Harry carefully, searching for any sign that the boy was messing with him. Surprisingly, he seemed completely serious.

"No, Harry. I meant his brain doesn't work." he corrected.

"Oh. Are you sure? I mean, it seems to work just as well as yours."

Harry came under intense scrutiny again. Once again, it seemed like his comment was totally innocent.

"Wow. You weren't kidding."

George blinked. "What?"

Raising an arm and pointing, Harry said, "That."

There, above the bed Fred was resting on, was a brass plaque. It was emblazoned with the words, "Fred Weasley".

"Oh. Yeah. Side effect of hanging out with King. I've spent a lot of time looking at this ceiling. Did you know it's made of 384 bricks?" George chuckled.

"You… counted the bricks in the ceiling?"

"Trust me, you get bored after you lay there a while. I've spent a _lot_ of time here. That's my bed you're lying in, actually. I had them put you there so it'd be easier watch both of you." Fred shrugged. "I don't mind sharing. I'm a nice guy like that."

Harry stared. The thought that someone had actually wanted to watch out for him just blew his mind. No one had ever done something like that for him before. No one had ever cared enough. He was Harry, nothing but a freak and an unwanted burden.

He stared at George, wracking his brain in an attempt to figure out what he'd done to deserve this.

George began fidgeting slightly. Something about the way Harry was staring at him was starting to freak him out. "Uh, Harrypits? You okay?"

The question seemed to snap Harry out of whatever weird trance. The boy started and shook his head slightly. "Yeah. Sorry. Thanks a lot, George."

The redhead ran a hand through his hair and gave an embarrassed grin. "Well, I do feel a little responsible."

Harry froze. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 _I should have suspected this._

"George… is this like the train?" Harry asked. "Or the bruises that aren't on my face?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"George…"  
"Fine, fine." George sighed. "It might have been just a tiny bit my fault. Fred's too. Actually, it was a lot more Fred's fault than mine. Definitely."

"Exactly _what_ was your fault?"

"Fred's fault. Completely." George nodded sagely. "So, the way I hear it, our trunks were too messed up for the house elves to figure out who belonged to what. Your trunk got shoved in my room and they left mine in yours."

"House elves?"

"Later. Anyway, you took it upon yourself to fix this instead of getting some help. Good call on that, by the way. You know King would have insisted."

Harry shuddered.

"So, I guess you got all the way up to the third year dorms before you slipped. You'd been pushing it up the stairs, so it kind of, uh, came down on top of you. You fell down three flights of stairs. Then the trunk hit you."  
"Ouch."

"Oh, it gets worse." George sighed. "You ever heard of Exploding Snap?"

Harry shook his head.

"It's a game for closet masochists. It's like poker, but with twice as many rules. Oh, and you can make the cards exploded. Usually in someone's hand."

Disbelief and horror filled Harry's gaze. "Why would anyone play that?"

"Heck if I know. Me and Fred've been trying to modify the cards so they're not so messed up. Make them explode into shaving cream or sloppy farts. That sort of thing. Our goal is to make a deck where every card does something different. Thing is… all we've managed to do is make the explosions bigger. A lot bigger. Oh, and the cards are a lot less stable, too."

"I… I'm pretty sure I know where this is going."

"Yeah, so, a deck of modified cards may have fallen out of a hole in my- Fred's! A deck fell out of a hole in Fred's trunk. When it hit the ground, the whole deck kind of… went off right next to your head."

"Um… George?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harrylot?"

"I'm pretty sure I like you, but I'm not sure being around you guys is a good idea."

George chuckled. "That's okay. That just means you've a healthy sense of self-preservation. Unfortunately for you, you've already been adopted."

"Adopted?" Harry squeaked. He looked at George with wide eyes.

"Yep. The brother we never had to replace the brother we never wanted. It's a lot like adopting a puppy, except puppies don't stand up to explosions nearly as well. Trust me, I know." George put a hand to his chest and solemnly lowered his head. "Rest in pieces, poor Mr. Wiggles."

Once again, Harry was rendered speechless. The gears normally turning in his head had ground to a complete halt.

"Anyway, I've got to go, unfortunately. If I get caught out after curfew on the first night, McGonagall's likely to explode. Possibly literally. Keep an eye on the moron for me, okay? I'll leave the girls here to watch the two of you. If anyone bothers you, they'll come out of it looking worse than Fred. They're pretty good at removing faces."

Both foxes nodded enthusiastically. Ru raised a paw to show off her tiny claws.

"Rest up for tomorrow. Fred's face is still gonna be tender, but the Madam said you should be fine by the morning. Good thing, too. Wouldn't wanna be busted up for your own Summoning."

"Oh. That's tomorrow? What's it like?"

"It takes most of the day, so it's a lot more casual than the Sorting. There's food the whole time, and you're free to come and go for stuff like the bathroom. Just make sure you're there when your name is called. As for the summoning itself… well, you'll see."

Harry frowned.

"Oh, come on. I can't ruin all the fun, can I" George said with a grin. "Really, it's nothing you need to worry about. Even an idiot can do it. Or, at least, I hope he can. Anyway, I've got to go."

Watching George leave, Harry sighed. He stared absently petting Ru. The little fox leaned happily into his hand.

"You know… this has been a very odd day."

He could have sworn the fox giggled.

* * *

A/N:

So, first of all: Hagrid. I meant to put this note last chapter, but forgot. I hate Hagrid's original character. I tried writing him as he was in cannon, but it just didn't work. So now he's a pimp suit wearing,, intelligent gentleman. I'm not sure why I decided on that, but I just kind of rolled with it.

Second, a warning. This was originally in a forward before the first chapter. I took that forward down and forgot to put this somewhere else. Though this story is primarily semi-crack comedy, it is meant to have a coherent storyline. There will be darker moments, dark humor and some violence. If you've read this far and don't like the idea of that, sorry. I probably should have put this warning earlier.


	7. The Summoning

Something Familiar

Chapter 7: "The Summoning"

AKA: "Gonna Be a Rough Year"

* * *

The Summoning Chamber was like nothing Harry had ever seen. Even most of the things he'd seen in books and on the telly couldn't compare.

Forty feet beneath the Hogwarts dungeons, the chamber was carved out of solid stone. It was enormous, easily five times the size of the great hall. Cubbyholes carved into the walls held candles that glowed with a eerie light. The walls to his left and right had a total of four small caves carved into them, each with a house crest carved into the stone above. Each section was filled with tiered seating. Many of the benches were filled, students already nibbling at the food set on the narrow tables before them.

And then there was the floor.

It was made of a pure, snowy white stone that was completely different from the greyish rock making up the rest of the chamber. Every inch of it was covered in a enormous pattern. Thick lines of black rock ran in every direction, forming circles, squares and a variety of more esoteric shapes. Small circles of other colors were scattered around at seemingly random intervals. Each had its own black pattern set into it, creating a confusing array of patterns within a pattern.

Just looking at it was almost enough to make him dizzy. It was so large, so complex. How had its creator managed to produce such perfect shapes? How had they achieved such flawless symmetry? How long would something like this take to complete?

It was probably a good thing he didn't notice that the ceiling supported a completely different, but equally large and complex pattern.

Harry had a pretty good view of the chamber from where he sat high in the Gryffindor stands. He was really glad Madam Pomfrey had pronounced him healthy so early. Sitting here on the stone bench surrounded by his friends - still a really weird concept - was a wonderful feeling. Bunching together had been no problem, as the stands were far larger than necessary to hold the students of their house. There was plenty of room for the other students to give King a wide berth and they were more than happy to do it. Even most of the first years had been warned to avoid that particular hazard.

It was, as always, a little annoying to see him being treated that way. King was as much a victim as anyone else. It wasn't like he'd asked to be born this way.

Still, it did leave plenty of room for Harry's friends to sit together, so it kind of worked out in their favor.

They'd had a hard time explaining to Hermione the various precautions to take around King. Being a muggleborn grounded firmly in logic and practicality, she found it very hard to believe that a slight boy like King was capable of such destruction. In the end, Harry had politely asked King to crumple up a fork. The boy was a bit confused, but he was always happy to help out a friend. Hermione had watched with wide eyes as he turned the utensil into a smooth, silver sphere with no apparent effort.

Neville had simply watched with interest. When the walking engine of destruction finished his creation, the pudgy boy had simply said, "Ah. Cinnapurple." and given a sage nod.

On the other hand, Hermione looked like she was about ready to bail. It was only when George had let loose a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "pink hair" that she'd sat down again.

This caused a bit of a squabble among the group. It seemed that originally, before Harry had joined them, Hermione and Neville had been seated on the other end of the stands. Knowing that Harry would most likely have a hard time choosing who to sit with, George had taken it upon himself to correct this by convincing the pair to sit with King and him. Sadly, Hermione had plenty of time to observe the Weasley last night and this morning. His antics had been enough to make Hermione wonder if she wanted anything to do with him, causing her to politely refuse.

So George had done the perfectly reasonable thing: he'd threatened her. Or, rather, "Made an extremely convincing argument in favor of my point of view by pointing out in detail the possible negative outcomes of not agreeing to it."

Pink hair might have been an interesting look for Hermione, at least in Harry's opinion. You never knew until you tried and there was no reason to assume someone _wouldn't_ look good with pink hair. Some girls could probably rock the look. His friend, however, seemed to disagree.

Despite the means he'd used to achieve it, it seemed like George had been right. The reluctant girl seemed to be having quite a good time. She'd warmed up to King quite quickly once her initial nervousness had passed. It seemed the two had quite compatible personalities, even if she was still a little weirded out by King's absolute conviction that the inanimate objects were all out to get him.

"Damn it, when's Fred going to get here?" George suddenly growled.

Harry fought the urge to sigh as he looked at the boy sitting beside him. This was about the tenth time he'd asked that question in the hour Harry'd been there.. "The nurse said she had to take the bandages off and finish treating his face, George. She said it would be an hour."

"But it's been a hour, right? Where is he?"

"He should be here soon" Harry soothed. "Don't worry, she seems like she knows what she's doing."

Neville, seated in the next tier up, leaned over and very hesitantly patted George on the shoulder. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure that was what you were supposed to do in a situation like this. "Don't w-worry George. I'm sure he's fine." he unsteadily comforted the other boy. The whole situation seemed a bit odd to him. He was certain that he didn't have a single relative that would cause him to act like this. Heck, there were a few that would cause him to blow up the balloons and break out the streamers if they were hospitalized.

"Oi. What've I come to, being comforted by a firstie." George chuckled. "Thanks kid. It's just really weird to not have the idiot and the girls here."

Neville beamed. He'd helped!

"Oh, that's right!" Harry exclaimed. "Ru's here, at least. Does that help?"

"What?"

"Yeah. See?" Harry pulled up part of his robe and spread the pocket wide. Ru was curled up in the bottom, nearly invisible against the black cloth. "I guess they got my robe from the lifeguards and cleaned it. She was already asleep in there when I put it on."

George sighed. "So lazy."

Ru slowly opened one eye and gave him a nasty glare. Tiny claws popped out of both her paws.

"Uh, what I actually meant is that it looks mighty comfortable down there." George hastily corrected. "Maybe you should stay down there a bit longer and not eat anyone's eyeballs."

George stood tense, hand on his wand, as he warily looked down at the fox. She continued to give him a menacing glare for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, she gave a huge yawn, rolled over and closed her eyes. Her wizard sighed with relief.

"You really shouldn't say things you know will get her angry." Harry said reasonably. Dealing with his "family" had taught him that sometimes keeping your head down was the best thing to do. It wasn't quite the same situation with the twins and their familiars, granted, but the principle applied.

"Honestly, are wizards _supposed_ to be afraid of their familiars?" Hermione asked.

"No, I think we're a special case. Just look a King. He's not afraid of Lady."

Splash.

The assorted Gryffindors turned to look towards the source of the sound. King, sitting next to Neville, was "gently" squeezing and deforming his silver ball with a slightly annoyed look on his face. At his side was Lady, rippling slightly and with a _very_ annoyed look on her face. Even as they watched, she tried to climb into her wizard's lap. He gently but firmly pushed her, causing her to slosh back onto the bench.

"I am still most wroth with you, my dear."

"What-" Harry began.

"Ah, he's still mad because he woke up wet, then had to dress twice this morning." George shrugged. "The watery tart gave him a good soaking the first time."

Lady scowled. She didn't understand why she was being punished.

"That… seems a bit harsh." Neville said softly. "I mean, she's made of water. She can't help it, right?"

The elemental immediately decided she liked him. There'd be no "accidental" soakings for Neville in the near future.

There was a sigh from King. "I suppose I should not be so cruel. She truly tries, it is simply that she has difficulty controlling her form when she gets distracted."

The water elemental nodded happily. Damn straight it hadn't been her fault! _He's_ the one that insisted on moving around and squirming while she tried to dress him. If he'd just stayed still, he would have ended up slightly damp at most. She wouldn't have had to punish him for trying to get away, after all.

Honestly, he never let her help at all. Why do things yourself when you had such a wonderful familiar to do them for you? But she wasn't allowed to carry his things because she occasionally got them wet. She wasn't allowed to help him dress because it made him uncomfortable. She couldn't take his notes because water elementals and ink didn't mix. Or maybe they mixed too well, depending on how you looked at it.

She couldn't even help him shower unless she snuck into the pipes beforehand, and the one time she'd gotten into his cup to help him brush his teeth, he'd said she tasted funny.

Her!? Taste funny!? How dare he say such a thing? She was made of only the purest and perfectest water there was! There was no way she could taste anything but wonderful!

"I'm… really hoping they're not a good example of how this works, either." Hermione muttered.

George sighed. "Oh, Hermoney, you just don't understand. Sometimes we hurt the ones we love. And, sometimes, we hurt them by trying to eat their faces or drown them. It's all part of a healthy relationship. Why, I've already blown Harry up, and we've only know each other for two days. It's clearly the start of something beautiful."

Hermione stared at Harry in horror.

"Yeah, he totally did." he confirmed.

"Wait, you already blew him up? I thought that was more of a 'third date' sort of thing." Fred asked.

The entire group jumped and whirled around, Hermione letting out an embarrassing squeak. Fred was standing in the tier above King, looking at them curiously. He was wearing a lovely fox-skin hat. The fact that it was still full of fox made it that much more daring.

"Where in the world did you come from?" King demanded.

"Ah, I've already had this discussion with my brother. We'd rather not think about it. But, if you must know, I came from a cabbage patch."

"Wait, wasn't that me?" George asked.

"I'm not sure. Which one are you? I lose track sometimes…"

"Are you okay now, Fred?" Harry asked. "You look a lot better."

"Ah, thanks Harrypits. I'm pretty sure I'm fine. The Madam said I looked pretty bad, but it was easy to fix since splinters only leave tiny wounds." Fred poked experimentally at his face. "Nothing that magical medicine couldn't fix."

"If only it could fix what's _inside_ your head." George declared.

"Oh, brother, I'd be worried about what's outside, if I were you." said Fred, shaking his head. He winced as his fox dug her claws in to avoid being dislodged. "You're not looking too good, and you don't even have the excuse of horrific wounds."

"Well you-"

There was a yip, cutting George off. Still atop Fred's head, Ri was looking around curiously. There was a brief pause, then she gave another questioning yip.

"Ah, I think she wants to know where her sister is." George said. "It's a bit annoying, not knowing what's up with your pet idiot." decided George. "It makes sense, I supposed. Not knowing where your reflection is can be a bit worrying."

"Oh! It's okay, Ri. She's right here, see?" Harry held up his robe and opened his pocket.

Ri stared down at her sister, fast asleep in Harry's pocket. Her eyes widened. Her sister was right there, right in front of her. She was fast asleep and quite obviously dead to the world. Clearly she had no idea what was going on around her.

Chance!

She shot off Fred's head with enough force to snap it back. The redhead gave a surprised, "Ack!" as the motion slammed his jaw shut.

Ri flew gracefully through the air, her limbs tucked tightly to her body. She looked like a black and white missile rocketing towards Harry. Right on target, she slammed straight into his pocket. The force of the blow was strong enough to slide him straight into George.

There was a loud, startled yip.

Harry's robe suddenly became a warzone. The fabric rippled violently. Small tufts of black and white fur shot out of his pocket. The foxes somehow managed to tear out the bottom of his pocket, breaking into the interior of his robe and turning his entire body into a warzone. A deadly game of hide-and-seek was played out all across his body.

Harry fought the urge to giggle as tiny claws prickled across his flesh, coincidentally hitting some very ticklish areas.

Finally, the pair erupted out of his collar. They slammed into the table, Ru pinning Ri to down. She proudly held her head high in a victorious pose.

Both foxes were suddenly cuffed across the head.

"Oi. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Fred demanded.

George nodded. "Yeah, doing that with us is one thing. Doing it to Harrypits is another."

"You can't just go tearing up someone's robes an' poking them in no-touch zones!"

"Do we need to break out the doll? Play a game of, 'Show us Where the Bad Girls Touched You"? Because we will."

Both foxes lowered their heads, ashamed looks on their faces.

"It's okay." Harry protested. "I don't mind. I didn't need all my pockets anyway."

"It's not okay, Harrikins. They're smart enough to know when too much is too much."

"They get out of hand like that with someone else and we all get in trouble. They're our familiars. We're responsible for what they 'd get a dressing down if someone found out they were attacking people 'an tearing up property."

"Yeah. _If_ someone found out."

"Way too many witnesses here. We'd be in trouble for sure."

"Speaking of trouble, did they ever find our idiot brother?" Fred asked curiously.

George nodded. "Yeah, some time last night. I guess they had their own private sorting, him and blondie."

"Swank."

"I'm… not really sure I want to go through with this." Hermione said quietly. "I'm starting to wonder if having a familiar is a good thing."

"I would not worry about it overly much." King declared. He was having a hard time seeing her through his familiar. Apparently he had forgiven her, because she was fastened tightly to his side. Her form had even distorted slightly, allowing her to get much closer than humanly possible. Or… as familiarly as possible. Whatever. "Having a familiar is a wonderful thing. You will never find a more stalwart and faithful companion."

"Besides, it's a little late for that now." Fred said, sliding into the empty space next to his brother. "Albus Dumbledore, the great and powerful, is emerging from behind his curtain."

Harry scratched his head in confusion. "Albus? Isn't his name All-lust? That's what the card said."

The foxes promptly fell off their new perches on Fred's shoulders. The twins, for their part, stared at Harry in disbelief.

Fred was slowly turning red. Fighting down the urge to laugh hysterically was almost too much. "Merlin. Oh, Merlin. All-lust…. I have _got_ to remember that." he snorted slightly. "Just hearing that… it almost makes the splinters worth it."

"Would you quiet down!" Hermione snapped. "He's going to start."

"Oh, yeah. Merlin forbid we miss the madman's speech."

"He's not mad, George. He's senile. There's a difference."

King frowned. "Red, it is quite disrespectful to speak of an elder and a great wizard in such a manner. Those in positions such as him should be honored and respected."

"M- my gran says he's the greatest wizard of our age." Neville nodded. "Maybe the greatest wizard since Merlin."

Fred snorted. "Must be nice. Defeat one dark wizard, and you're the greatest thing since... err… the last great thing. Everyone even ignores the fact that you're completely nuts."

"Smooth, brother."

"It's really not that great." Harry sighed. "Kind of weird and uncomfortable, actually."

"Ah, sorry about that, kid. Wasn't thinking." Fred muttered, rubbing his head sheepishly.

"That doesn't exactly seem to be an unusual condition for you two." Hermione snorted. "Wait… I mean, be quiet! I'm trying to listen!"

"...tree made of shoes. And that said, let us begin this most auspicious of occasions!" Dumbledore raised his hands high.

"Oh, wonderful. You made me miss the entire speach!"

George shrugged. "I'm guessing you didn't miss much. You _did_ hear the speech he he gave last night, right? I stuck around last night and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it."

"That bad?" Fred asked. "Worse than last year, when he advised we all strive to achieve the virtues of the platypus?"

"I am still not sure how exactly I am to lay an egg." King muttered. "I am also not sure I would like to try, even if I knew."

"Fred, brother, you have no idea. He actually told an entire school full of teenagers to stay away from one of the third-floor corridors. On pain of death, apparently."

"...he didn't."

"Yep."

"My most esteemed brother…"

"As soon as the Summoning is over, Fred. It's not like the corridor is going anywhere?"

"You sure? You _do_ remember that room we lost, right?"

"The one with the stuff? Yeah, that was a bummer. I'l lover to get those snap-crackers we hid back."

"Abbot, Hannah!" Dumbledore shouted.

"Quiet now. We'd best shut up before the scary firstie burns a hole through us."

A small girl emerged from the Hufflepuff section and nervously shuffled to the center of the circle.

"There's no need to be so nervous, my dear." Dumbledore said soothingly. "Do you remember the spell? Have you your offering?"

Hannah nodded.

"Wait a sec. Spell? Offering? What's he mean?" Harry asked.

"You… do not know? No one has informed you of what you should expect from the ritual?" King asked in shock.

"I thought all the muggle born got something about it…" Neville said.

"Harry, didn't you read the stuff McGonagall left with you?" Hermione demanded. "Why in the world wouldn't you do something so important?"

"I couldn't help it. The Dursleys threw it all out before I could read it."

The Weasley boys froze. Very slowly, they turned to look at Harry

"They threw-"

"-it out?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Uh, yeah. They said they didn't want any freak crap like that in their house."

Both sets of twins were now staring intently at Harry. There was a very out of place look on their faces. It was a stark contrast to the sparkle of mirth that was normally in their eyes. Harry was well acquainted with the signs of anger, but this was a bit odd. Even though he was on the receiving end of four furious stares, the rage didn't seem to be directed at him.

"You need to know the spell, Harry." Neville said helpfully. "Uh… I think you'll be okay if you just watch other people."

Fred sighed and placed a hand on each foxes' back. Their tails, which had been lashing violently, slowed. "The real problem here-"

"-is gonna be the offering." George looked away and began tapping his wand on the table. Something about the sharp tick-tick-tick sound made Harry flinch slightly every time.

"You are required to have something of value to offer your familiar, Harry." King added. "It is mostly for show, but it is an ancient tradition and you must do it."

"Like this. This is mine." Neville declared. He pulled a tiny potted flower out of his robes. "It's a mini-orchid. They're really hard to take care of, but I've had this one since I was six."

Hermione placed a book on the table. "This is my favorite book. I always wished I could go to Wonderland. You have no idea how happy I was when they told me I could go somewhere just as fantastic."

"We've got a bit of time, Harry. They have to reset the circle after every summon. That's why this takes all day." George said. "You're allowed to leave for a bit if you need to. Maybe you can run up and get something from your trunk?"

Harry frowned. "I don't really-"

"Granger, Hermione." called Dumbledore.

The girl gave Harry an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Harry. I'll be right back. I'm sure we can figure something out."

She made her way down and out of the stands and stood before the Headmaster.

"You know the spell and have your offering?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione said. She laid her book down in the center of the circle.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, dear. Let us be on with it.' He quickly vacated the circle.

Hermione took a deep, nervous breath.

 _Alone I walk in this land,_

 _an empty place within my soul._

 _Searching for someone to take my hand,_

 _and with their love, fill this hole._

 _I send my voice, from so far,_

 _across the void, hear my plea.._

 _Whatever your form, wherever you are,_

 _heed my call and come to me._

Energy crackled across the circle.

Someone laughed. She knew immediately that it wasn't another student. The sound had an unearthly, echoing quality to it. It was rich, deep and almost seemed to echo in her ears.

"Well, now. What have we here?" a smooth voice asked from behind her.

Hermione slowly turned around.

There was a smile floating in the air. It wasn't attached to anything. There was no body, nor anything else of the sort. It was simply a set of grinning teeth, hovering several feet above the ground. The corners of the smile tilted up a bit more as she stared at it in shock.

Her eyes widened. "No. That's impossible."

A cat with light orange and dark orange stripes running down its body faded into view around the grin.

"My dear, the impossible is merely that which has yet to be done. All that is impossible is doomed to become naught but history. Surely a bright girl would realize this, and you must be bright. You called for _me_ , after all."

"You- you're not real…"

"Am I not? How strange. I feel quite real to me. Then again, I suppose the unreal _would_ feel real to something that lacks a certain quality of realness." the cat patted itself down. "Ah, well. Regardless, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. If there's one thing the Cheshire needs, it is a girl to befuddle."

"I- I knew something like this was going to happen." Hermione sighed. "We'd better get back to the stands, okay?"

"Ah, a feast awaits. You must be quite mad, inviting a flight of fancy to dinner."

Hermione sighed. "Let's just go, okay?"

"As you wish. "Do you perchance have any food of the 'not real' sort? I feel it may be difficult to partake, otherwise," the cat chuckled. "And an imaginary cup of tea would certainly not go amiss."

* * *

Neville stood in the center of the Summoning circle, his heart beating far too fast. This was it. This was his chance to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a wizard. This was his chance to prove he was worthy of the Longbottom name. He had no expectation of getting something great. He just wanted anything, even a cockroach would do.

With a great amount of trepidation, he recited the spell.

For a long, long moment, there was naught but silence. Despair began to fill him.

Then the noise began. A strange, quiet scraping sound. There were a few startled screams from the stands as something brushed past unsuspecting feet.

From all around the chamber vines were slowly slithering into the circle. Their large thorns scrambled across the stone as they went, producing the strange sound. Onward they stretched, heading for the boy standing frozen there in the center of the chamber.

The vines met before him, twisting around each other and forming a solid mass. They sort of fused together and became one entity, a thick stalk covered in large thorns that glistened ominously in the dim light. A flower, an enormous black orchid, quickly grew from it. After a moment, the beautiful flower bloomed.

There was a girl in the center. She had the blackest hair he had ever seen, falling loosely around her shoulders. Slim with a modest bust, she had the form of an experienced dancer. Her pale skin almost glowed in the dim light of the chamber.

She was also completely naked.

She leaned forward towards Neville, arms spread wide. With a smile on her face, she beckoned him forwards.

McGonagall shot to her feet, wand in hand and spell upon her lips. Before she could do anything, a hand closed around her wrist. Dumbledore gently pulled her back down on her seat.

"Albus-"

"Now Minerva, you well know that a familiar cannot harm her master." he said soothingly.

"But it-"

"Just let them be. It will be fine, I promise you."

Neville slowly walked forward, examining the creature he'd summoned. It was obviously some sort of plant, but it was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of. Since he'd read every book on plants he could get, both magical and mundane, that was quite surprising. He wondered where she'd come from.

The girl in the flower, for her part, was still motioning with her arms was obviously urging him to move even closer. He complied, approaching close enough that he could easily reach out and touch her. She once again held her arms out. It took him a moment, but he eventually figured out what she was trying to say.

He stepped forward and embraced her. Happily, she wrapped her arms around him in return. The petals of the giant flower closed around them both, drawing startled gasps from several students. Dumbledore was forced to restraint the deputy headmistress again.

After a moment, the petals fell away. They immediately wilted, dissolving into nothing before they hit the ground.

Neville stood alone in the center of the circle. He had one arm raised and was staring at it with a look of wonder on his face. Several thorned vines were wrapped tightly around the limb. He could feel small thorns pricking gently at his skin, but none actually pierced his flesh.

"Wicked."

The vines around his body gave a slight squeeze. He supposed it was supposed to be something like a hug.

Neville happily picked up his mini-orchid and headed back for the stands.

 _I'm going to take this and shove it right up uncle Algie's-_

The boy paused suddenly. Where in the world had that come from? Although… he couldn't say it sounded like an entirely bad idea. Whatever he had wrapped around him, he was guessing it was a good bit rarer than his uncle's cockatiel.

For some reason, something he'd heard one of the other Gryffindors say last night came to mind.

 _Put that in your pipe and smoke it._

* * *

Draco did his best to look proud and regal as he stood in the center of the summoning circle. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to do at the moment.

His lips were sore and puffy, an unfortunate result of being separated from the Weasley. The glue that had held them together had been exceedingly strong. It has resisted all attempts to remove it via spell. In the end, they'd been forced to carefully pry them apart. Separating centimeter by centimeter had taken nearly an hour in all.

It had been one of the most unpleasant experiences in his pampered life.

As bad as that had been, the makeup was probably worse. His father had said he looked like a whore. Draco wasn't exactly sure what a whore looked like, but it was easy to believe, regardless.

They'd been able to remove the blush, at least. He supposed that was something. The eyeshadow, however, had resisted any attempts at removal. The lipstick had proven to be just as bad, strong enough to survive both the separation of lips and the most powerful removal charms his parents knew. The mascara could have easily been removed, but Draco wasn't willing to cut off his eyelashes. Goring around with no lashes was probably worse than just heaving them green.

Whoever had done this to him, they knew what they were doing. He almost had to respect them for the skill they'd shown. Had it been a little less pronounced, it would have been a fantastic job.

Yeah, purebloods like to look pretty. Even a lot of the male ones.

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out his offering.

"Dude. Is that a mirror?" George asked.

Fred nodded. "Yeah, that's totally a mirror."

"A pretty little compact. All shiny and everything," giggled George. The foxes on his shoulders snickered quietly.

Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, he is wearing makeup. Wouldn't he need something like that?"

This set both sets of twins off into a bout of full-blown laughter.

"Really, is that normal? Do all purebloods wear makeup like that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"No," Neville said firmly. "At least, not that much."

Fred nodded. "Yeah, he looks like a wh-"

"-wizard of questionable repute." George finished.

"Hey! That's what I was gonna say. Sort of."

"Sure. Now shut up for a sec. I wanna see what the ponce gets."

Draco drew a deep breath and confidently recited the spell.

There was a faint shimmer from the silver hand mirror laying on the stone floor. The surface rippled slightly, as if it were made of water rather than glass. The ripple became small waves, then the waves turned into a tiny, swirling vortex. Finally, the surface bulged upwards.

There was a loud crack as the bulge burst. As it fell away, something shot up from the mirror. A small creature much like a fairy flew up and hovered in front of Draco. Its body, however, was made entirely of something resembling liquid silver. Every bit of it was shiny and reflective almost beyond belief.

It darted here and there, carefully examining Draco's face from several different angles. Apparently it was satisfied with whatever it found. Nodding happily, it flew over and alighted on Draco's shoulder.

The blonde grinned happily. This was clearly not even close to a dog or a cat.

Father would be proud.

* * *

Harry stood in the center of the summoning circle, trying desperately to keep control of his heartrate. This would be one of the most important moments of his life. This was his chance to meet something or someone that would always accept and love him. What happened now would have an enormous impact on almost every aspect of his future..

This was no time to panic.

Dumbledore looked down at the nervous boy, favoring him with a kind smile. He, like all (most) the staff at Hogwarts, always tried not to play favorites. However, he had to admit he'd been waiting for this. Waiting for nearly ten years, in fact.

What sort of familiar would the slayer of the Dark Lord summon?

"You know the spell, My Boy?"

Harry nodded uncertainly.

"And you have your offering?"

"Yes sir," said Harry. He reached into his robes and held it aloft. "My wand, sir."

The chamber went dead silent for half a moment, the burst into excited chattering. It seemed his choice of offering had set everyone into a frenzy.

"His wand?"

"No way…"

"Can he even do that?"

"He's gotta be insane."

"...I don't think there's a rule against it."

"Quick, someone grab a Ravenclaw!"

Fred and George were on their feet, watching as the chamber went mad. Both had thoroughly pleased looks on their faces. Something about their grins made the nearby Gryffindors try to scoot even further away from the group than they already were.

 _Without even trying..._

 _Oh yeah. Definitely trainable._

"That is enough," Dumbledore said forcefully. The chamber instantly went quiet. With a heavy sigh, he looked down at Harry. He wasn't sure how he'd expected this to go, but it probably wasn't like this. "Harry, surely something else would be better. Are you sure you'd like to offer your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You realize that by offering your wand you are essentially offering your magic?"

"It… it doesn't matter. This is all I have."

Dumbledore stared for a moment. Well, at least his expectations were being met. One way or another, the Boy-Who-Lived's summoning would be one to remember.

"Very well. No wizard has the right to interfere with another's summoning. Not even I," Dumbledore declared. He turned and slowly made his way out of the circle.

Harry watched him go. Once the headmaster was gone, he knelt and placed his wand on the stone floor. The stone there was surprisingly cool. It was almost calming, enough so he knelt with his palm on the stone for several seconds. He drew several deep breaths to calm himself, then stood.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, slayer of Voldemort, sole survivor of the massacre at Godric's Hollow, savior of the wizarding world and all round nice guy recited the Summoning spell.

Nothing happened.

This wasn't like Neville's summoning. In his case, the dead silence had lasted just long enough to make people wonder. In Harry's, it just stretched on and on. _Minutes_ went by. Maybe even hours, as far as Harry was concerned.

Something inside of him broke.

It looked like the other shoe had finally dropped. Harry's shoulders slumped as despair flooded his body. But even as disappointed as he was, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been expecting this.

Right from the get-go the entire thing had sounded just a bit too good to be true. A whole magical world completely free of all things Dursleys? A school where he'd learn magic and hopefully make some friends? The chance to summon a life-long companion that would accept him unconditionally?

Nothing in life was that perfect.

So now the twist had reared it's ugly head. It had turned out to be even worse than he'd feared. He had just failed to complete a vital ritual that any untrained wizard should be able to perform. Dozens of other first-years had succeeded before him, but somehow he had choked. The entire hall had witnessed the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived become the first student in Hogwarts history to screw up the Summoning.

 _Great. I knew it. They made a mistake. I'm not a wizard at all, and now they'll send me back to the Du-_

"Ooh, what're we looking at?"

The sudden question sent Harry's depressing train of thought careening right off the rails. He tried to suppress a frightened squeak, but the cheerful voice had come from directly behind him. Just inches behind him, actually. Close enough that he could feel warm breath on the back of his neck. It was more than enough to startle him, causing him to try and turn and leap away at the same time. When that didn't work so well, so he settled for awkwardly hitting the ground and scrambling away on all fours.

There was a girl standing in the summoning circle. Not in the center, but a little ways towards the Gryffindor stands. Harry was absolutely sure she hadn't been there a moment ago.

She looked like something straight out of the underwear catalogues Petunia occasionally paged through. Specifically, one of the women she referred to as "big-chested bimbos" or "wide-hipped cows". Her waist was slim and lean, but her chest and hips were anything but. A pair of black denim shorts and a blood-red halter-top struggled to keep her decent. They were successful for the most part, but they didn't leave much to the imagination.

A mane of scarlet red hair fell down her back, long enough that it was trailing on the floor behind her. Harry was certain he'd never seen hair quite that shade before. All he could think of the compare it to was the red of fresh blood. It was held in a loose, tangled ponytail by a black ribbon wound haphazardly through it. A small, silver bell was tied in place high up on the ribbon.

She was poised in a low crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet and staring at Harry. She was studying him intently. Her brow was furrowed in thought as she carefully examined...

 _Wait..._

Harry shifted slightly to the right. The girl continued to stare straight ahead. It looked like he'd been wrong. She wasn't staring at him, she was staring at the center of the circle.

"Um…"

The girl gave an irritated huff and dropped unceremoniously back onto her rear. "This isn't very interesting, you know. Why are we looking at nothing? We should be looking at something, not nothing. Something is almost always more fun to look at. Nothing just gets boring after a while." she complained. Her eyes remained fixed on the center of the circle the entire time.

"Um... excuse me, but-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"Oh! _You're_ something, aren't you? It'd probably be more fun to watch you. People are almost always interesting. Sometimes." the girl observed. Despite this, she continued to stare fixedly at the middle of the room.

The students watching the spectacle were beginning to realize something was off. He could already hear quiet whispers around the room. A few people were had started giggling quietly. It was only a matter of time before his audience started laughing in earnest.

Harry decided it would be a good idea to just bull straight on ahead.

"Look, you're my familiar, aren't you?" he asked.

The girl's head whipped around so quickly that Harry was surprised she didn't break her own neck. Her eyes bored into him with frightening intensity. A shiver of fear ran through Harry's body.

 _There's something wrong with her eyes._

"What?" she asked slowly. She eased up from her crouch and began moving towards Harry. For some reason the word 'slinking' immediately came to mind. "What did you say?"

"I summoned you, right? You're my familiar?" Harry repeated weakly. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get that out around the lump in his throat. He felt pinned down, like he was struggling under an oppressive weight that made it hard to breath, let alone move.

"You... summoned... me...?" she asked slowly. "You summoned me? Here? I'm here because you called me? You wanted me?"

"I think so, yeah." Harry quietly confirmed. He was really, really hoping that he was right.

"Hmm... I see. If you summoned me, that means..."

"That means...?"

"I have a boy!" the girl screamed, throwing her arms out. She wiggled her rear slightly, a rather interesting move given her figure, and catapulted into the air.

Harry opened his mouth in shock, but didn't manage to say anything. Sixty-two kilograms of airborne redhead slammed into him like the wrath of god. He was driven into the stone floor hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, but quickly discovered that breathing was quite a bit more difficult than it should be. It was pretty hard to breath when...

"I have a boy! I have a boy!" she happily sang out. Her arms were wrapped around his head, shoving his face deep into her cleavage. Harry was desperately trying to get away, but his struggles just seemed to be encouraging her to hug him tighter.

Someone in the hall muttered, "Lucky..."

"Damn it! Why'd you claw me!?" a second, nearly identical voice demanded a half-second later. " _He_ said it!"

Not even noticing this interjection, the girl happily announced, "I have a boy!" yet again. She grabbed Harry's shoulders and triumphantly held him aloft for all to see. "I have a- uh... are boys usually all blue?"

"Ack." Harry said. It was turning out to be a long week. That probably wasn't a good sign, considering it'd just begun.

"Are you okay, My Boy?" she inquired. She curiously tilted her head to one side, trying to get a better look at his face. The sharp movement jarred the bell tied into her hair. It produced a sharp jingle that echoed through the hall.

She froze, dropping Harry onto the hard chamber floor. Her eyes widened and her body tensed. Without warning, she suddenly whirled around.

"Bell!" she yelled.

The motion elicited another jingle from the bell. The girl whirled around again, trying to find the source of the noise.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

The entire hall just looked on silently. This was just a bit beyond ridiculous, even for the wizarding world. No one was quite sure what to do. Should they stop it, or just let things play out?

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._

A small hand shot out and latched onto the offending object. It was deftly removed from its ribbon. Even as she began to turn, Harry held the bell out in front of him.

The girl froze and gazed lovingly at the silver ball. "Bell..." she observed softly.

"Yeah. Bell. Here." Harry managed to choke out between gasps. He had managed to recover quite a bit during her bell-induced spaz attack, but he wasn't quite back up to 100%.

"You got me a bell?" she asked in an awed tone. She took it from him and examined it carefully. "Thank you, My Boy. It even matches my-"

She froze, one hand raised to her hair. Her eyes were wide with horror. She began frantically patting her head, tugging the spot from which the bell had originally hung.

"My bell! My bell is gone! I lost my bell!" she wailed.

This proved to be the final straw. Someone in the audience started laughing. It didn't take long for others to join him.

"The great Harry Potter, huh?" Draco's voice rang out. Forget getting close to the Boy-Who-Live. He'd been sorted into Gryffindor and summoned some sort of idiot familiar. As far as Draco was concerned, that ship had sailed."What kind of wizard summons a retarded muggle for a familiar? You're pathetic! You should just go home! You and the rest of the worthless mudblood sc-"

It occurred to Harry that the space in front of him was empty. That was rather odd. He was pretty sure there had been a completely insane girl there a moment ago. She seemed to have vanished in less time than it took him to blink.

A piercing scream split the air.

 _Oh, there she is._

The bench Draco had been sitting on had been knocked back, dislodging several students. The boy himself was lying prone at the edge of the circle. His terrified look and gaping mouth made it obvious he was the source of the shriek.

The redhead was crouched on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Her left arm was held to one side, fingers splayed out and nails just barely touching the stone floor.. Her other hand was poised over Draco's face.

Draco couldn't help but notice that, in addition to being on the long side, the girl's nails were abnormally thick and sharp, slowly tapering into nasty-looking points. He also couldn't help but notice that he could _feel_ a pair of those nails just barely resting on his eyeballs. The razor-sharp tips pressed down with just enough pressure to be noticeable, but not enough to pierce his cornea.

"You make a lot of annoying squeaking noises. I think you might be a mousie." she announced. She was amusing herself by drawing figure-eights across his pupil. " _Are_ you a mousie?"  
Trying very hard not to move, Draco whimpered, "No..."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The girl sighed in disappointment. "Oh, that's too bad. I _like_ mousies. Love them to pieces!"

She grinned at Draco.

Draco wet himself. He really tried not to, but he couldn't help it. The girl's smile was probably the most horrific thing he had ever seen. Her canines started in the front and went all the way back. She had neither molars nor incisors, just an entire mouth full of frighteningly sharp points. It was the sort of mouth that belonged on a horrible carnivorous monster, not a girl.

It didn't take much imagination to figure out what they could do to flesh, or even bone.

"Young lady!" McGonagall's stern voice snapped out. "That is enough!"

The girl twisted at the waist, turning to look at the professor curiously. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the frightening pressure left his eyes. Resting a nail against her front teeth, she curiously asked, "Is that me?"

"Of course!" McGonagall snapped. She continued across the circle toward them, her familiar trailing behind her. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. She hated this part of her job, but being deputy headmistress made her responsible for maintaining order in the school. That meant dealing with familiars that got out of line and refused to back down.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Whatever the girl was, she seemed fairly good-natured, if a little over-protective.

"Oooh... I kinda figured. If someone's yelling, they're usually yelling at me." she said sagely.

"This is just what I needed." McGonagall muttered. Louder, she said, "Yes, I would imagine. Would you kindly remove yourself from Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mr. Whonow?"

McGonagall allowed herself to smirk slightly. "The.. mousie."

"Oh."

The redhead immediately rolled to one side and twisted to her feet in one smooth motion. She bounced on the balls of her feet a few times (drawing an interesting assortment of reactions from the crowd) and looked at the teacher curiously.

"Yes. That will do. Now, I don't know what things are like where you come from, but here we do not threaten each other with physical violence." she scolded. The gray hunting cat at her feet made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a derisive snort.

The redhead looked McGonagall, a look of horror on her face. "I wasn't threatening anyone!" she protested in a shocked and horrified tone. "That's a terrible thing to do!"

The deputy headmistress pointedly stared at Draco.

"Oh, no! We were just playing. He sounded like a mousie, and mousies love to play." the redhead explained. "Of course... they always get tired and stop playing after a while. But he's a big mousie, so I'm sure he would've been okay. Maybe."

"Maybe?" McGonagall asked blandly.

"Err... probably?"

"Regardless, I find it rather hard to believe that you were playing. That was a rather focused display of violence."

"Of course I was playing! I'm sorry I got confused, but he sounds like..." the familiar insisted. She pointed down at Ash. "If you don't believe me, just ask him! He's a big kitty.. Kitties are always right."

Professor McGonagall looked down at her familiar. Ash stared at the girl, examining her closely. He thought for several seconds, then deliberately nodded. The teacher's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"I see." she said. Her tone of voice made it quite obvious she wasn't convinced. "Regardless, there will be no... playing... of that sort in the future. Is that clear?"

"If you say so..."

"I do. And I'm afraid I'll be taking ten points from Gryffindor. Though you were just summoned, a wizard is expected to keep their familiar under control. I'm afraid Mr. Potter has failed in this most spectacularly." McGonagall said with a resigned sigh. She'd really been hoping to get through the first week without taking points off her own house..

"He sure did!" the familiar said happily. "Wait... what's a Mr. Potter?"

McGonagall gestured. "Harry Potter. Your summoner."

At some point during the fiasco the boy in question had recovered his wand hesitantly come up behind McGonagall. He had been standing there quietly, not quite sure what he should be doing. He knew he was supposed to be able to handle his familiar, but he didn't really know how he was supposed to do that. He wasn't even sure this girl _was_ his familiar.

McGonagall gestured towards him. "Mr. Potter."

The girl's eyes widened as they fixed onto Harry. She obviously hadn't noticed him standing there.

"My Boy..." she whispered.

"Oh, vasco..."

" _My Boy!"_ she repeated at a much higher volume. She lunged forward, arms held wide.

Luckily for Harry, who hadn't been looking forward to another visit to Pillow Hell, she didn't make it to him. Professor McGonagall's hand shot out and grabbed her hair as she went past. The old witch was obviously much stronger than she appeared. She not only managed to keep her grip to on the red mess, but her stance barely shifted as she hauled the girl to a screeching halt.

The redhead's eyes widened in shock. The bottom half of her body kept moving even as the top was brought up short. Her legs shot out from under her, still making a flailing pedaling motion. She desperately grabbed the base of her ponytail with both hands.

"Ack! My tail!" she shrieked in horror.

McGonagall released her hair. Forward momentum completely arrested, the familiar slammed straight down into the ground. She impacted with a very audible thud.

"Owie..."

"Now then. I think that's enough of that," harrumphed the teacher. "Mr. Potter, you will take your familiar and rejoin the rest of your house. Do try to keep her under control."

"I'm sorry, professor." Harry said sadly. He had been hoping to get through this without embarrassing himself. Still, it looked like had managed to summon a familiar. She was a little weird, but...

Okay, she was a lot weird.

"I think we should go sit with my friends now, okay?" he said gently, holding his hand out. "This is really important and we can't mess it up for everyone else. Well, not more than we already have, I suppose."

His familiar, who had been trying to glare a hole straight through McGonagall, turned at his voice. Harry got his first clear view of her eyes. They were a very unusual shade of amber. They were also had vertical slits instead of normal pupils.

Her gaze immediately softened. "Okay, My Boy. If you say so."

Gently nudging his hand to the side, she slid lithely to her feet. Once she was standing again it was easy to see why she'd refused his help. She was more than a full foot taller than him and probably twice his weight. If he'd tried to haul her up, he probably would've just ended up on the ground next to her. Somehow he hadn't noticed that before. He supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how hard she'd managed to hit both him and Malfoy.

McGonagall watched the pair head for the Gryffindor benches. The staff was going to have their work cut out for them with this bunch of students. Longbottom's summon alone would be headache enough, but it was far from the only problematic one. When you added in the more... colorful.. familiars from previous years...

It was never a good sign when you started getting migraines during the first week. This was probably going to be a long semester.

She turned back to the hapless student on the ground. To her surprise, there was now another Draco there. The new addition was perfectly identical to the prone boy in every way. It was as if Draco had suddenly acquired a twin brother.

The second blond had the traumatized boy's head in his lap and was stroking his forehead soothingly. He looked up at McGonagall with concerned eyes and asked, "Is he going to be okay?"

 _Sister,_ McGonagall corrected herself. The second Draco's voice was quite obviously feminine. She was hoping against hope that didn't mean what she thought it did. "You are Mr. Malfoy's familiar, then?"

"I thought he needed help. Being little isn't always useful, and this form is beautiful enough, I suppose."

 _Wonderful_. "I'm fairly sure your master will fine, but it'd be a good idea to get him to the Hospital Wing. I assume won't mind escorting him?"

Female Draco made a disgusted face. "My master? No living thing is worthy of that title. I'll listen to this one because he's so beautiful, I suppose, but he certainly is no master of mine."

Even as McGonagall was seriously considering a career change, the blonde familiar gently set Draco down and stood.

"Come now, pretty one. We'd best get you somewhere safe. 'Twould be a shame for such beauty to be marred," the girl declared. She easily hauled Draco to his feet and scowled. "Though it seems thy taste in gilding shall be a matter for discussion. To adorn thyself in such a manner is truly a crime. Thy features require a more delicate touch, by far."

As his familiar half-dragged Draco towards his house stands, Harry and his familiar were finding seats in the Gryffindor benches. It was fortunate that there was always plenty of space around King.

Harry gingerly slid onto the bench next to (what was probably) George. He was forced to scoot a bit closer to the other boy as his familiar joined him. It seemed like Lady wasn't the only clingy familiar, because she sat far closer than necessary. He looked at the twin beside him and said, "Is that really how it's supposed to go, Fred? I feel like that was a bit… off."

"Well, look at it this way, Harrypits: nothing exploded, right?"

"Though explosions can be fun."

"But not so much if you're in them, though. That's usually bad."

"I don't think Harry needs to be told that, brother."

"And bye the bye, I'm George."

Harry nodded happily. "I know. But if I'd called you George, you just would have said you're Fred."

Both twins stared at Harry.

"Is this food?"

The three boys turned to discover Harry's familiar poking experimentally at a serving platter. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn't very impressed by what she found.

"Well, I'm afraid that's a bit open to interpretation."

"That's black pudding. Calling it food might be a bit of an exaggeration."

"So who's your new friend, Harry-buns?"

"Oh!" Harry started. How could he forget something like that? "Yeah... I think this is my familiar."

George looked past Harry in amusement. The girl in question was happily waving both arms in greeting. She had a length of black pudding skewered on one of her long nails. Most of the students around her were watching the "food product" suspiciously while hunching over to shield their plates.

"You _think_ she's your familiar?" Fred asked. "That's not normally the sort of thing you don't know."

"Well, it's not like I've ever summoned a familiar before, have I?" He huffed. Turning to the side, he asked, "You are my familiar, aren't you?"

"Am I me?" she asked. She rested a finger against her chin in a confused gesture. The black pudding left a greasy smear down her cheek.

Harry stared at the blobs of glistening fat running down her hand. Somehow this night was not going at all like he had been hoping. "You know what? Whatever. If you weren't before, you are now."

"Yay!" she exclaimed. Throwing her arms wide, she enveloped Harry in a bone crushing hug.

The black pudding slid from her finger during the motion, rocketing through the air. The Gryffindors watched it with trepidation. There was was collective sigh of relief as it sailed right past the house's section. They may have been the house of the brave, but not one of them wanted a close encounter with that stuff.

Unfortunately, the Ravenclaws rarely paid any attention the the "lesser" houses. There was a pained shriek from across the chamber.

"My eye!"

"Ohmygod! Cho!"

"Didn'tdoit!" the redhead declared. She quickly released Harry and clasped her hands behind her back. "Can't prove I did it."

"It's okay... uh. Wait a second, who are you?"

"I'm not very good at philoso-phical questions. Actually, I'm pretty bad at most questions, but I'm even worse at those. Unless the answer is 42."

"No," Harry sighed, "what's your name?"

"42!"

"I told you, that wasn't a philosophical question. I just want to know what I should call you."

"Oh, I see. Silly, you should have just said that from the beginning. My name is Men'nace Asra Ven'ar shi Karaven."

Three boys and two foxes stared in disbelief for several seconds. It was Fred who finally broke the silence.

"Are you seriously saying that 'Menace' is your name?"

"Men'nace." she corrected. "My name means, 'Beautiful Goddess With Flame-Red Hair', but you can call me the other one, too. 'Menace' sounds nice and it's a lot easier to say."

George snickered and muttered, "Truth in advertising."

The younger boy gave his friend a nasty jab to the ribs. If he'd stopped to think about it he probably wouldn't have dared, but it just sort of came naturally to him. "I'm not going to call you that. It isn't a very nice thing to call someone."

There was a shrug. "People've called me a lot of things that weren't nice."

"Well I'm not going to be one of them."

"If it really matters, then you can just call me 'Angel Song'. People call me that, too."

Harry beamed. "Then that's what I'll call you. Angel is much nicer than Menace."

Angel made a strange face, but nodded in agreement.

"I'm Harry Potter. You can call me Harry."

The redhead looked at him curiously. There was a confused expression on her face. "That's silly, My Boy. Why would I call you Harry? You're not hairy at all."

"That's my name. Like Angel is yours. So you should call me that."

"But you're My Boy. Why would I call you Harry? That's a silly thing to call your boy, My Boy."

"Look, you can't just going around calling me 'My Boy'. It's weird."

There was a thoughtful look on Angel's face. She studied Harry intently, examining him up and down. Finally she seemed to have come to a conclusion. Resting a finger against her cheek and tilting her head, she asked, "Master?" in an overly-sweet voice.

A large portion of the Gryffindor students were suddenly struck with some sort of strange fit. Silverware clattered to the table, plates hit the floor, and half-eaten meals landed in laps. Coughing and choking could be heard all up and down the tables. A few student keeled over so hard they ended up on the ground.

Harry's face was beet-red. He had no idea why, but it was. Something about the way she'd said that had just sounded very, very wrong.

"Fine." he squeaked. "My Boy is fine."

His familiar smirked slightly. "Thought so." she said smugly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That's... quite the familiar you have there, Harry." Fred declared. He was trying very hard to climb back onto his feet without trailing his robes through the assorted food now littering the floor. "Very... unique."

"Yeah, don't think we've ever seen one quite like her." George agreed. He hadn't fallen off the bench, but had managed to send his entire plate flying into his face. "I'd say she's definitely got a lot of potential."

"Mounds of potential."

"She's clearly incredibly talented. It's practically busting out."

"Really, I wish we had your summoning talent. You summoned a fox. We summoned foxes."

Two black projectiles shot across the table to slam into Fred's chest. The poor boy had just managed to climb back up onto the bench. Now the force of the impact knocked him straight back off of it. The three became a whirling ball of wizard, fox and pain.

Aside from a few startled first-years, no one really seemed to notice. It was starting to look like Hogwarts was just that sort of place.

Harry was surprisingly okay with that.

"Hey! Stop! They just fixed that!"

"Oi! Girls! Get off his face, okay? Our disappointment is next!"

"You have a disappointment?" Angel asked. She was too busy glaring at her fingers to look at George. The black pudding juice had congealed to her hand, leaving a residue that somehow managed to be both slimy and sticky. She had quickly discovered it couldn't simply be shaken off, so had settled for using a nail to scrape it away and wipe it on the edge of the table. The stone surface now sported several very obvious gouges.

Harry watched in fascination as he cleaned her nail again. As he had half suspected, it shaved off another sliver of stone.

"I have repeatedly told you that it's entirely inappropriate to refer to your brother in such a fashion." King gazed down on the group from the next tier up.

Lady was flopped across the table in front of him. Once again she had managed to put herself between King and Harry, forcing the boy to look through her.. She was amusing herself by hand feeding her wizard. At least, she was trying to hand feed him. Each time her watery digits approached his mouth, he would deftly take the food from her and feed himself. Harry could see her annoyed pout even though she was facing away from him. Seeing someone's expression _through_ their head was a bit disturbing.

"He's our brother, King." George sighed. "Trust us, he's a total failure. You'll finally get to see for yourself."

"Argblargle! Whut the thuck!? Not mah thoungh!" added Fred. He was frantically smacking at the foxes clinging to his face. "Thut it ouh, hew bithes!"

There was a long-suffering sigh as King shook his head. "It consistently amazes me how you are so completely unable to take anything seriously. Lady, my dear? If you would?"

The water elemental was quite annoyed at the moment. All she was trying to do was be a good familiar and take care of her wizard. She didn't want everyone to think she couldn't take care of her pet, after all. But for some reason he wasn't letting her!

This seemed like a good time for a bit of relaxation. If you're in a foul mood, raining on someone's parade was very therapeutic. In the case of a water elemental, the phrase was quite a bit more literal than normal.

Lady adjusted her form so that she was standing on the table. With a theatrical flourish, she reached into her own chest and withdrew a baseball sized globe of water.

The melee on the floor instantly stopped, foxes and wizard staring upward in horror. Fred tried desperately to close his gaping jaw before impact. He failed. Lady slammed into the melee and, rather than simply splashing like you'd expect a ball of water to, she detonated in a huge blast of large droplets.

"You wouldn't."

King sighed as a sudden wave of intense glee ran down their Bond. It was unusual for that to happen - generally only occurring when the elemental felt something particularly strong - and it was rather hard for him to deal with. It was all he could do not to smirk in sympathetic joy. Such an expression was certainly not appropriate for an intellectual and an artist.

This backwash was also why it was so difficult to stay mad at her. Once she started sulking, it only got worse and worse until he forgave her. It didn't take very long for him to start feeling bad in sympathy. After that, it was only a matter of time until he was so depressed that every step felt like he was slogging through a swamp.

Sometimes he wondered if a dog would have been easier to manage. From what he understood, the simpler emotions of an animal or even most magical beasts almost never washed back along the Bond.

On the other hand… just thinking about life without Lady was a bit disturbing.

The familiar reared back and hurled the ball of water downward with all the force she could muster. It crossed the distance between them in an instant. Fred desperately tried to close his mouth before it hit, but he was far too late. The watery missile slammed into his face, pushing his head back to the floor and washing the foxes off his face.

Fred rolled onto his side, coughing and gagging. "Merlin, in my mouth and everything! Why does it taste so weird?"

Lady twitched visibly. Despite how nebulous her face could be, her annoyed expression came off quite clearly. She withdrew another orb of water and violently belted Fred across the face with it. Another followed quite quickly, then yet another.

"Gah! Damn it, cut it out you moist menace!" Fred yelled in annoyance. He jerked his wand out of his robes and thrust it violently at Lady, giving it a slight twist at the end. " _Eitha!_ "

There was a surprised look on Lady as she was thrust backwards, as if given a particularly powerful push. She slammed into her master with a considerable amount of force. The impact was enough to cause her to splash violently, throwing water to his sides and rear.

"Oh. Wonderful." Hermione said. She lifted her sodden robes and gave them a critical look. "You know, I was really hoping to get through the day without being soaked. At the rate I'll be out of robes well before then end of the week. Neville, I hope you-"

Hermione paused, staring in surprise at the black cocoon sitting on the bench next to her. Even as she watched it shivered violently, throwing large drops of water in every direction (including hers). Now completely dry, the cocoon opened. Or, rather, it might be more accurate to say it bloomed. Large, black petals spread, revealing Neville sitting in the center. The petals then fell away, immediately wilting and vanishing.

"Thank you." Neville muttered. He received a slight squeeze in response.

Hermione sighed. "That's just great. Your familiar shields you with her body. Mine hides behind my head."

There was a chuckle. "My dear, I'm a cat, in case you haven't noticed. Real or unreal, that water looked quite wet, and there's only one time a pussy should be wet."

"Was that truly necessary, Red?" King asked. He ran his hand through his hair, collecting a small amount of water. He then held in front of his face and watched with interest as the droplets collected and formed into a tiny Lady. "Worry not, my dear. We will get you some fresh water shortly."

As inconvenient as it could sometimes be, the elemental didn't like to reuse water that had left her body. King supposed he could understand why, though. When it was part of her body, she could prevent foreign materials from dirtying her water. Once it was separated, however, it was quickly dirtied by all manner of things.

"Well, you were the one who set her on him." George said reasonably. "You've gotta expect some payback, and it's not like a little pushing hex is gonna hurt her."

Harry siged. Fred was looking absolutely pathetic, lying on the floor, soaking wet with a dazed look on his freshly chewed face. He really, really looked like he could use a break. "Angel, could you help him?"

"Okay!" his familiar said. She nodded happily and hopped up on the bench. Before Harry could ask what she was doing, she flexed her legs and launched herself high into the air.

"No! I meant help Fr-"

"Wheee!" Angel screamed as she reached the top of her arc. "I can fly! Oops. Only down, though." she corrected herself as she began to fall.

Fred's eyes widened. His brain began to work furiously. Should he dodge or not? On one hand, getting hit by a ballistic redhead would probably hurt a lot. On the other, said ballistic redhead would probably make some supermodels weep in shame. If he moved just right, he could probably take her chest straight to the face.

In the end, self-preservation won out. Fred frantically scrambled to the side, leaving Angel to slam face-first into the floor. She hit with a very audible thunk.

She raised one arm weakly. Voice muffled by the floor pressed against her face, she declared, "I… am made of pain."

"I meant help Fred up, not help King punish him..." Harry sighed.

Fred chuckled weakly. That'd probably been the right choice. Still, he couldn't shake a faint sense of regret. "You should get down here, brother. We'd have a full set of redheads then. That's bound to be a high-scoring hand!"

"I'm sorry, brother, but I'm not quite as fond of the floor as you. Look at it this way, though. You've the girls as well. It may not be a full house, but you could do worse than two pair."

Fred plucked the foxes off the floor by his head and carefully climbed to his feet. Still working his mouth around and trying to spit out the last remnants of familiar, he set them on the table. The poor creatures looked more like drowned rats than foxes.

"Ah, you'll never win the game if you can't go the distance. What'll the ladies think if you can't go all-in?" Fred slid onto the bench. "Someone slide me some pumpkin juice. By the gallon would be best."

Harry, meanwhile, was stubbornly trying to haul his dazed familiar to her feet. As he had suspected earlier, it didn't work all that well.

"Oi. Harry. Just leave her on the floor, right? It's not like she'll be any worse off," advised George. "Hell, I'll even put Fred back down there to keep her company."

Fred said something in response, but it was a little hard to understand around the pumpkin juice he was enthusiastically swishing around his mouth.

"I'm not going to leave her here. That wouldn't be a very nice thing to do." Harry protested.

"Yeah, well, something tells me you're not getting her very far."

"You know, you could help me!"

George shook his head. "Oh, no. No way. I saw what happened to the ponce You think I wanna know what happens if I touch her in the wrong place on accident?"

"Or on purpose." added Fred. The foxes lying in front of him growled and bared their teeth, but seemed to lack the motivation to do much else at this point.

"Or that," George agreed. "Just let her lay there. She'll get up on her own eventually."

Harry considered this a moment. George's comment had caused a whisper of an idea to make itself known. After all, she'd seemed quite motivated just before "playing" with Draco. Carefully laying his familiar back on the floor - lowering her the whole two inches he'd managed to lift her - he carefully studied the dazed girl. After a moment, he reached out and cautiously stole her bell.

Moving very slowly, holding the bell close to his chest, he climbed up onto the bench.

"Harry! What on Earth are you doing?" Hermione demanded.

Extending his arm, Harry took a deep breath gave the bell a shake. A beautiful ringing sound swept across the Gryffindor stands. The reaction was immediate.

"Bell!"

Harry blinked. His familiar was standing on the table, examining the bell she held in front of her face. Opening and closing his hand a few times, he confirmed that, yes, it did not contain a bell. He hadn't even felt her take it from him.

"Thanks, My Boy! You got me a bell! It even matches my other-" her face went white. She started patting her hair frantically. "My bell! My bell is-"

"Don't!" Harry practically shouted. "That _is_ your bell."

Angel tilted her head curiously, her "lost" bell seemingly forgotten for the moment. "Don't be silly. Of course it's my bell. You got it for me," she said.

"No, I mean, it's _your_ bell. The one you had before. I just… borrowed it from you. Now I'm giving it back."

"You took my bell?" Angel asked. Harry felt a sudden, intense flash of irritation. At least, he thought he did. It was gone so quickly he barely had time to register it. "Well, I suppose that's all right. You are My Boy, after all. But you shouldn't take things without asking." She waved a finger at him

"Hey, enough with comedy hour." George scolded. "They're finished with the circle."

Harry nodded. "Uh, could you come back down here? Just come down and sit with me?"

He received a happy nod in return. The redhead bounced off the tabletop and landed squared in his lap. The sudden impact of the much larger body nearly knocked him off his bench. It _did_ manage to drive the wind from his lungs. As he tried to recover his breath, the redhead twisted around and tried to find a comfortable seat.

 _It looks like I'm just going to have to get used to not being able to breathe._

In the circle, the youngest Weasley son stood confidently. Like all the others, he knew how important this was. He knew that this would be a defining moment in his life. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would summon something incredible.

In the back of his mind, he was glad the Summoning was so easy. He hadn't really needed to study or anything.

Ron was oblivious to the snickers coming from around the chamber. His makeup job was, if anything worse than Draco's. The blonde at least looked like a high-class hooker who'd gotten a little overzealous with the brush. Ron, on the other hand, looked like a clown. A clown that was also a very, very cheap hooker.

Anticipation built within him as he recited the spell. This was his chance to show the world he was as good as any of his brothers.

As he finished, there was an extremely vulgar sound. It put everyone in the chamber in the mind of a particularly long and wet fart. A cloud of greasy green smoke erupted in front of Ron, bringing with it a horrible smell. His peers began coughing and choking. Those unfortunate enough to have mouthfuls of food actually gagged as they tried desperately not to disgorge it.

Something fell out of the vile cloud with a wet splat. Ron eagerly darted forward, peeling it of the stone and proudly holding it aloft for all to see.

"That is-"

"-absolutely-"

"-disgusting," the twins finished.

Harry nodded in silent agreement. He winced slightly as Angel tried to wiggle further away from the creature. At least she came with a fair bit of padding. This arrangement would have been quite a bit more than uncomfortable if she had been built like aunt Petunia.

"Ugly mousie," she declared. "Really, _really_ ugly mousie."

Harry found himself nodding again.

The youngest Weasley son was holding aloft something that could generously be called a rat. Its fur was a bit overlong and definitely on the mangey side. It was also spotted with patches of green, obviously the result of some mold or fungus that had taken up residence.. The whole creature looked a bit damp and slimy, as if Lady had given it an enthusiastic hug and then dunked it in a bucket of lard.

Even a hundred feet away, Harry swore he could smell it. It was a musty, slightly sour smell. It was not pleasant.

"Good lord," muttered King. "That is-"

"-about what we expected," George interrupted.

Fred nodded. "Yeah. Maybe a little better, honestly."

"Bill's got that... thing. Don't know what it is, but it's scary as hell."

"Charlie's got a salamander. Cute li'l bugger could torch a small town."

"We've got the girls, and even Perfect Percy has that weird metal owl."

"And then there's our beloved younger brother."

"Proud summoner of a... something. Not really sure what that's supposed to be, honestly."

"Ron wants everything for nothing, King."

"Probably went into it thinking how nice it was to have something handed to him."

"Didn't wanna put in any effort, and that's what happens. Garbage in-"

"-garbage out."

King frowned.

So did Angel. "That doesn't look tasty at all." she declared.

"Don't try to eat it. You'll probably get sick.," Harry quickly said. "Wait, just don't eat stuff like that at all. Even if it does look… tasty."

"What?" Angel looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Why? Are you kidding? Because people don't eat rats!"

She stared at him for several seconds, then her eyes widened in understanding. "Ooh… I see. You're all confused and stuff. I'm not people, silly!"

The small collection of students looked her up and down. Fred and George did it perhaps a few times more than necessary.

It was Neville who broke the silence. "You're not?"

"No, of course not!" She scrambled out of Harry's lap (much to his relief) and adopted a low crouch on the bench. "I'm a cat!"

There was more staring.

"I am! Look! See my beautiful red fur?" She rocked backwards and proudly held her right arm aloft.

The stares continued. Angel hesitated, then followed their gazes. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she took in the limb which, needless to say, was not covered in fur.

She screamed. "Ahh! My fur! My beautiful fur! It's all gone. It's-"

"Calm down!" Harry shouted over her. He had the sneaking suspicion he'd be shouting that a lot in the future.

"Okay." Angel immediately stopped screaming. In stark contrast to her panic just a moment ago, she calmly plopped onto her rear and crossed her legs. "I figured out what's wrong, anyway. I'm people. People don't have fur."

"That's what we-"

There was a faint whoosh of inrushing air as the bouncy redhead vanished. Harry gaped. In her place on the bench was a tiny red kitten, sitting proudly and looking at him. There was a black ribbon wound several times around her neck with a small, silver bell hanging from it.

"Angel?"

The kitten gave a happy meow and hopped into his lap. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the first time she'd done so.

"Well, would you look at that," George said, raising an eyebrow. "You've got yourself a rare familiar there, Harry."

"Right you are. I don't think I've ever actually seen a human animagus before. That's a neat trick." Fred added.

"Human… animagus?"

"An animagi is someone that turns into an animal. So, a wizard that turns into a cat would be a pussy animagus."

"I'm thinking that would be something else entirely, brother."

"I suppose it would at that." Fred shrugged. " So, you have cat animagi that turn into cats, but it works the other way, too. Sometimes a magical beast will sort of teach itself how to become human."

"So… she's really a cat?" Harry asked. The small creature in his lap was looking up at his with sheer adoration in her eyes.

George nodded. "Yep. One of the magical breeds, of course. Don't recognize her offhand, though."

Harry thought about this for a moment, then reached down and gave her an experimental rub. She responded by pushing roughly against his hand. He'd always wanted a cat, but for very obvious reasons had never asked. His familiar turning out to be one seemed like a lot more good fortune than he was used to.

He very deliberately didn't think about the fact that the creature he was petting had just been a very human redhead.

 _Someone that will always be there for you._

 _Someone that will always love you._

 _Someone that will never leave you._

He looked down at the small kitten now laying in his lap and purring contentedly.

For the first time in a very long time, Harry smiled.

* * *

Author's Note:

So, there's Chapter 7. It ran a little long, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how long it'll take to finish the eighth. I'm having a bit of trouble with it, so it all depends on when inspiration strikes.

In case you were wondering: yes, I don't like Ron. Yes, there may be bashing.

A reviewer mentioned that my writing has the occasional error, a fact which I cannot deny and apologize for. I am first and foremost a storyteller, not a writer. There are many differences between the two, one of which is how cleanly things come out on paper. I only have one person prereading this, and she's not much better at it than I am.

That said, if you're interested in getting an early look at the next chapter and helping me proofread, I've decided it might be prudent to enlist some outside help. Anyone interested in being a prereader should submit a five page essay detailing why they are right for the job, including personal references and previous experience. Or, y'know, drop me a message. I'll give the first couple I see access to the Google Docs file when the chapter is ready, so you'll need a Gmail address. I find it to be an easy way to do things and all my files are already up there, so that's my preferred way of doing things. If you don't have and don't want a Gmail address, you have my apologies.


	8. 404: Clothing Not Found

Something Familiar

Chapter 8: "404: Clothing Not Found"

AKA: "Innocence Is Skin Deep"

* * *

The girl was unnaturally beautiful. She had a slim, lithe form and a modest chest. Her soft skin was absolutely flawless. It was so pale that it almost seemed to glow in the soft light of McGonagall's office. Dozens of thin, jet black braids fell down her back, ending at her waist. Something about her was disquietingly alluring, drawing the eye in a way her beauty alone could not explain.

Passing her on the street, you'd notice naught but an abnormally attractive woman. It was hard for her to admit, but even McGonagall would likely be taken in by her ruse. That's how good she was, this perfect facsimile of a human being.

Were you to follow her into a dark alley, however, you'd find out she was anything but. Even just watching her… assemble herself… had been disturbing enough that the deputy headmistress had been forced to stop herself from shivering. She couldn't imagine how the poor saps that wandered away from the crowd must have felt.

Not that they'd felt it for long.

The girl's "skin" looked - and no doubt felt - perfectly normal, but was actually made of some sort of pale, fleshy leaves. There was neither muscle nor bone beneath it. Instead, it covered a vaguely humanoid figure made entirely of tangled, thorned vines. Her hair was no more real than her flesh. Each strand was formed of a single, thick creeper carefully shaped to resemble a braid.

McGonagall had caught a brief look at the girl's face just before she'd finished constructing herself. The sight of those empty eye sockets staring back at her, thorny vines writhing behind them, had made her blood run cold. She'd seen them for only a moment before they'd been filled with eyes, but that was enough. The squirming mass of plants would probably haunt her dreams for weeks.

"Mr. Longbottom. Do you know why you are here?" she asked without taking her eyes off the familiar. The girl was very agitated, likely because she'd been asked to separate herself from her master. She was glaring at the deputy headmistress as if trying to kill her with a look. Her flesh was rippling here and there, likely a product of the vines inside moving too violently. On occasion, a large thorn would pierce her flesh, creating a small gash that quickly healed over.

If McGonagall was right, the familiar was considering trying to kill her with a bit more than a look.

She subtly shifted, bringing her wand more in line with the pale girl. It wasn't easy to aim, concealed beneath her desk as it was, but she was pretty sure she had a good shot lined up. Not that she was confident a normal Plant Wilting Curse would work on that… _thing_ , but it couldn't hurt to try.

Maybe she should just start with an Explosive or Immolation Hex, if it came to that. Half the reason she'd asked Neville to have the familiar to come out from under his robes was so she'd have a clear shot, after all. May as well make use of it.

Hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. She was rather fond of this office.

She really wished they'd been able to do this thing somewhere else. While a familiar could never intentionally harm their master, others had no such protection. Sitting in such cramped quarters with that _thing_ did not make her feel comfortable, and wouldn't improve her chances if it decided it was hungry. Then again, being on the other side of the Quidditch field might not be any better. According to the little lore they had, the best place to be right now was several miles and one impassable mountain range away.

"N-no, ma'am, I d-don't." Neville answered. His eyes were flicking back and forth between his familiar and McGonagall.

The past hour had been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him. First, he'd been nervous about performing the Summoning Ritual. Then, he'd been elated at having summoned an apparently impressive familiar. Immediately after, he'd been terrified when the professor had pulled him and Harry aside and brought them to her office. Harry being told to wait outside hadn't done much to ease his fears.

Professor McGonagall had asked him to have his familiar come out once they were inside. The weird sensation of the tight vines unwinding from his body had put him off a bit, but the sight of the beautiful girl forming next to him had been amazing. He'd never even heard of a plant that could do such a thing before.

But now he was so frightened he was pretty sure he was about to piss himself. Neville wasn't afraid to admit that. He wasn't an overly-proud man.

His familiar and the professor were glaring at each other with an intensity that was normally reserved for someone who had killed your entire family in front of you by beating them to death with your dog. The atmosphere was almost suffocating, weighing down on him like it was a physical thing. Though he wasn't exactly the best at reading the situation, Neville was pretty sure a fight was getting ready to break out at any second. He just wished he knew _why_.

Still not taking her eyes off the familiar, McGonagall said, "First, please name your familiar." She'd encountered more than her fair share of dark creatures in her youth, but none had ever made her feel like this. Staring at the girl, she definitely felt like she was looking up the food chain. Even Ash's normally calming weight against her legs wasn't helping much.

"W-what? Name her? B-but, we don't do that until the r-registration. That's not until the end of the w-week!"

"There are special exceptions, Mr. Longbottom. Please name her. Right _now._ " McGonagall insisted. Her grip tightened on her wand under the desk.

As if in response, the familiar's eyes narrowed. A particularly violent shift beneath her skin sent a ripple across her whole body.

"W-well… um… s-she's really pretty and she kind of looks like one. A-and it is my favorite flower… So... Orchid?"

The newly-dubbed familiar suddenly went stiff.

McGonagall watched carefully as the creature's body relaxed. Her skin was now perfectly smooth, with no ragged holes or thorns breaking the surface. There was no sign of angry thrashing occurring within her body. Even her gaze had softened considerably. She was no longer staring at McGonagall in a way that made her feel like lunch.

"Very good, Mr. Longbottom."

"P-professor… why are we here? Y-you said it w-was because of an exception? What exception?"

McGonagall sighed. "Familiar registration much take place immediately following the Summoning in cases where the summoned creature is an unknown species or abnormally dangerous."

"You don't know what Orchid is?" Neville asked curiously.

"No, we know exactly what she is," the professor declared, rubbing her temples.

"Wait. Y-you don't mean…"

"Your Orchid is an Alura Une. Otherwise known as a Venus Maneater."

"..."

"On top of that, she of the Black Orchid subspecies, which is thought to be the most dangerous variety. It is believed that Black Orchids are responsible for several mass disappearances throughout history. Entire villages, both muggle and wizard, stirpped bare," McGonagall softly said. "I say _believed_ because we don't know much about them. There is a distinct lack of information where the Black Orchid subspecies is concerned. There weren't many survivors of their attacks, you see."

Neville stared in shock. "That's… that's horrible!"

Orchid smiled happily, as if she had received high praise.

"Yes, it is. Leaving such a creature to roam the halls of Hogwarts for a week could have been disastrous. That is why you were brought here immediately. If nothing else, the simple act of naming her makes having her around much safer for everyone."

"Is it that important?"

McGonagall nodded solemnly. "Naming a familiar finalizes the Bond. The completed connection grants them a type of sympathetic humanity. Their baser natures are greatly dampened and their behavior becomes much more docile. Simply by naming her, you have insured that her more dangerous tendencies will be suppressed," she answered.

Neville's eyes widened. "I d-didn't know it did something like that."

"It's hardly noticeable in most cases. Many animals have no difficulty getting along with humans. Even in the case of a more dangerous predator it simply makes them a bit more tame. With something that is naturally dangerous to everything around it, however, it is the only thing that allows them to function safely in society," McGonagall explained. "Now that you have named her, we are much less likely to suffer an unfortunate… accident. Still, I would appreciate it if you would order her to never again eat a human being."

"Oh! Y-yeah. That's probably a good idea." Neville agreed. Turning to his familiar, he continued, "I'd- I'd like it if you didn't eat people a- any more. Please."

The plant gave him an incredulous look. She studied him for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he was serious, then frowned. Raising one hand, she made a simple gesture.

 _a young man steps into pale arms which pull him to a welcoming bosom while full lips whisper wordless promises fulfilled by a willing body to which he offers himself so that the flower may bloom eternal in a pact as natural as fallen leaves becoming soil_

The image flashed across Neville's consciousness so quickly that it was gone almost before he realized it was there. In its wake it left a slight impression of an idea, one tiny concept:

 _Why?_

"Is something wrong, Mr. Longbottom?'" McGonagall asked curiously. First the boy had started as if stung, and now he was staring off into space.

Neville shook his head. "I- I'm fine. I just saw… or felt… something," he trailed off, rubbing his nose. A strange, sweet scent was lingering there, almost to faint to be detected. "I think she wants to know why she can't eat people."

"By all means, tell her. It would mean much more coming from you, her master, than if I attempted it."

"Oh, right." Neville sighed. How in the world did you explain something like that. It was perfectly obvious to him, being human, but how did you explain it to something else? Especially considering that people were her natural prey. "Uh… You shouldn't eat people because hurting them isn't a nice thing to do."

Orchid tilted her head and made another gesture. For just an instant, the sweet smell got stronger.

 _thorns sharper than any blade glisten in the sun as they pierce the flesh and fill the blood with warm pleasure that chases away the pain bringing joy beyond joy even as they bite deeper and the bloom closes crushing bone and stealing life_

Neville very deliberately shoved the disturbing image out of his mind. It wasn't something he really wanted to think about. Luckily, just like the last image, it left behind a simple thought.

 _Painless._

"N- no, I don't mean like that. I mean… people are people. You shouldn't eat them."

 _dozens of humans wandering their village faces blank as-_

Trying not to be distracted by the complex image, Neville instead forced himself to focus on the impression it left.

 _Prey._

Neville frowned. "But I'm human too. Does that mean I'm prey?"

Orchid shook her head enthusiastically. .

 _Special._

"So, I'm special to you, so I'm not prey, right? It'd make you sad if something bad happened to me? It would make you sad if I got hurt."

 _Obvious._

"Well, other people are special to me. Everyone is, at least a little. If you ate them, that'd make me sad," Neville declared, "and that'd be like hurting me, wouldn't it?"

Orchid stared at her master. Her expression slowly became one of horror. She couldn't hurt her Keeper, not even a little! Not only did she not want to, but it wasn't allowed. If he said that eating people would her him...

The internal battle lasted several seconds before she gave a defeated, soundless sigh.

 _Fine._

Neville smile. "Good. That makes me really happy."

The killer plant beamed back. Making her Keeper happy was almost worth giving up her favorite meal. She'd really miss the lovely crunch of their bones being crushed in her bloom, but you couldn't have everything.

"So, everything's settled, then?" McGonagall asked. She had been watching the conversation with interest. To her it had seemed completely one-sided. "She's agreed to let others be?"

"Yeah. Um… didn't you..?"

"Your familiar appears to use some form of communication that I'm not privy to."

"Oh." Neville looked at the plant curiously. "How did you do that, anyway?"

Orchid smiled and held a pale hand under Neville's nose. The faint, sweet scent he'd barely noticed suddenly became very apparent. A few tiny, white motes - just barely visible - drifted down from her hand.

 _Smell._

"Pollen?" Neville said curiously. He tried to keep track of the tiny particles, but quickly lost them. "Huh. So it messes with your head, then? Hmm… makes sense. Lots of magic plants do that. Even muggle plants like the poppy can."

Orchid smiled and nodded. It was nice to see that her Keeper was intelligent, and had a proper respect for plants.

"Good. Now, on to the next matter." McGonagall broke in.

Neville nearly jumped out of his chair. He'd been so busy cataloguing plants that had a similar narcotic effect that he'd completely forgotten the teacher was there. Straightening himself, he asked, "Next matter?"

"That, Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall responded. She gestured towards his familiar's chest.

Neville followed her hand and immediately blushed. Somehow, distracted by the serious conversations before this, it had been quite easy to miss the fact that his familiar was completely naked.

Noticing him looking, Orchid wiggled a little and puffed out her chest. Neville responded by blushing brighter.

"Could you put on some clothing?" He squeaked.

 _No._

"What?"

 _No._

"But-"

 _No._

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Longbottom?"

Still staring at Orchid in surprise, he responded, "She says she won't. Can she do that?"

"More intelligent familiars can be a bit more… selective… as to which requests they obey." McGonagall sighed. "I'm afraid that this isn't surprising. Alura Une are creatures that essentially use their bodies to hunt. Their attractive forms are their primary tools when they lure prey in for the kill. Covering herself would be quite against her natural instincts."

"Erk." Neville said helpfully.

"Still, you must convince her. I'm afraid we can't have her running the halls in the nude. The castle is enough of a mess already without her starting a riot."

Neville thought about this for several seconds before turning to his familiar. "Look, you're n-naked so you can hunt people, right?"

 _Yes._

"But you're not going to eat anyone anymore, right?"

 _Yes._ Somehow the simple hand gesture came of as being slightly sad.

"So, you don't need to be naked anymore, right?"

Orchid looked at him like he was an idiot. _What?_

"Well, I mean, if you're not going to eat people, you don't need to be naked to catch them. So, you don't have a reason to be naked."

 _Hot._

Neville blinked. "Do you even get hot?"

He received another one of those, "are you an idiot" stares.

 _Hot._

"Oh… I-I think I get it…"

"Is everything alright, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville giggled nervously as he turned back to the professor. "U-um… she says she doesn't want to wear clothes because she's hot."

"She gets hot?" McGonagall asked curiously.

"No Professor. I… I'm pretty sure she means… uh..."

McGonagall stared at Neville like he was an idiot. He was getting really tired of people looking at him like that.

"Well, nonetheless, you will have to insure she understands she must be clothed. If she continues to resist, it may be necessary to resort to a clear and direct order. The Bond will insure she obey."

Neville sighed. He really didn't want to boss his familiar around at all, let alone the first day he had her. Dreading the conversation to come, he slowly turned to face her.

Before he could say a word, Orchid's scent washed across his nostrils. He was so caught off-guard by the sudden image that he couldn't quite block it.

 _a weak and pitiful weed grows from rocky soil desperately reaching for the sun while the beautiful flower in the grass basks in its glory its beauty never to be matched by the twisted plant that desires it so_

Neville didn't even need the thought attached to the image to know what it meant.

 _Jealous._

The blood quickly drained out of his face. He found himself thanking Merlin that the professor evidently couldn't understand Orchid's half of the conversation.

She gave him a sweet smile. _Wrong?_

"Ah… I-I think you are right now. With a l-lot of other people, though..."  
"What was that, Mr. Longbottom?"

" _Nothing!_ " he squeaked. "L-look, you don't have to wear r-robes like we do. Just cover the, uh, naughty bits…"

 _Naughty?_

"Here." Neville put his hands over the top of his chest.

Orchid studied him for a long moment, then leaned forward and placed her hands over his.

"No. No. Here. See? Like this."

She quickly covered his hands again.

"No, you don't- Look, cover here, but on you."

Orchid looked at him with a confused expression, then looked down at her chest. _Where?_

"...you're making fun of me, aren't you?" Neville said with a frown. "I am not going to show you… _where._ "

The girl gave a soundless chuckle. Black flowers blossomed across her chest, quickly fusing together. In an instant, she produced something like a ruffled, black tube top that covered her lower breasts and upper abs.

 _Spoilsport._

"Good… now… uh…" Neville hesitantly lowered his gaze. To his surprise, she was already wearing a short skirt made of petals. He stared at it in shock for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "You already knew exactly what you were supposed to cover!"

Orchid giggled again. _Huntress._

It took Neville a moment to make the connection. "You… know what to show to… hunt. Of course you know what to…"

 _Covered._ She gave a happy nod.

Neville fought the urge to slam his head into the desk.

 _Praise?_

He sighed and rubbed his head. He was starting to thing his familiar really _was_ dangerous. Not in the way Professor McGonagall had been talking about, though.

 _No?_ Orchid gestured with a sad frown.

"I think I have a headache…"

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, it looks like it's going to be that sort of year," she said quietly.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Mr. Longbottom. Nothing at all."

* * *

McGonagall examined Harry carefully. The boy was fidgeting in his seat, looking extremely nervous. That was understandable, really. Being called into your Head of House's office was nerve-wracking at any time, let alone when it was only your second day. Were their positions reversed, she doubted she'd be doing much better.

At least he didn't look like he was about to wet his robes. She felt a bit bad about letting Neville get so distraught, but she'd had other things occupying her attention at the time.

Harry's familiar, on the other hand, seemed to be handling the situation just fine. She was crouched on her chair rather than sitting on it, once again balanced on the balls of her feet. She was looking at something above McGonagall's head with an expression of wonder. Her wide eyes swung back and forth, as if following something as it sailed around the room.

The professor had to fight the urge to look up. The way the redhead was staring, as if she was looking at the most fascinating thing in the world, was making her curious despite herself. She wouldn't allow herself to sate that curiosity. Gawking around her own office like a moron wouldn't be dignified, and she had an image to maintain.

"Mr. Potter, do you know why you are here?" McGonagall asked.

Before Harry had a chance to respond, his familiar leapt to her feet. Standing at full height, she threw her arms into the air. Her nails left small gouges in the ceiling as they brushed the stone. Triumphantly, she yelled, "42!"

The two other occupants of the room stared at her.

Finally, Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Angel. That wasn't a philosophical question."

"It wasn't?"

"No. The professor was asking if we knew why we were _here_."

Angel tapped a finger on her cheek thoughtfully. "But… why are any of us here?"

"Because Professor McGonagall wanted us to come here." Harry said firmly. "That's why we're here."

"Ooooh. I get it! I think…" Menace declared. She gave a little hop, flipping backwards and twisting. She somehow managed to spin her chair around during this maneuver, turning the back to face McGonagall. She landed straddling it with a thump, leaning forward against the backrest. Fixing the professor with a curious stare she asked, "Sooo, why _are_ we here? 'Cuz this is kinda boring… I wanna find something to chase…"

McGonagall sighed. She had the feeling she'd be doing that a lot in the near future. "You are here for your familiar registration. Normally this would be done a week from now. However, as we are not sure exactly what your familiar is, we will be making an exception and doing it now."

"That's silly. I'm a kitty, obviously."

The teacher eyed the familiar's hand as it moved to and fro across the back of the chair. Her nails moved lightly across the wood, effortlessly carving shallow scratches into the surface.

"Yes. Obviously." McGonagall said blandly. "Nonetheless, there is protocol to be followed."

The professor opened a desk drawer and withdrew a small object.

"Oooh. Shiny," Angel whispered in awe.

"It is a diamond. It would be surprising if it was not… shiny," Mcgonagall responded. She carefully placed the stone in the center of a piece of blank parchment. "We do not normally do this due to the cost involved, but in cases where an unknown familiar may pose a danger to the students and staff… With you permission, Mr. Potter, I will preform a spell that should identify your Angel."

"It's not going to hurt her, right?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. It is merely a Divination spell, one of the few that has any worth."

After a moment of thought, Harry nodded.

"Very well. Please hold still." One hand resting on the blank parchment, McGonagall slowly extended her wand towards Angel. The familiar, in response, leaned backwards, placing herself out of McGonagall's reach. She was staring fixedly at the wand with a suspicious glare.

McGonagall sighed again. Of course something so simple couldn't be easy. It was _definitely_ going to be one of those years.

"Mr. Potter, if you would…"

"Umm.. If I would… what?"

The headache was getting worse. She'd have to stop by the Hospital Wing when this was over. Madam Pomfrey was quite skilled at brewing Migraine Relief Potions.

"She is your familiar, Mr. Potter. If you tell her to allow me to use the spell, she will."

"Oh." Harry muttered unhappily. Much like Neville, the prospect of just telling his familiar to do something she clearly didn't want to do didn't really appeal to him. He'd been ordered around enough to know it wasn't particularly pleasant. Maybe he could just…

Hesitantly, he put a hand on Angel's leg and gave it a comforting pat. At least, he hoped it was a comforting pat. He wasn't really experienced when it came to such things. But that was what you did when someone was nervous, right?

"Would you please let the professor use the spell on you?" he asked. "It won't hurt or do anything bad to to you, I promise."

Angel stared at him for several seconds. Finally, she sighed. "If that's what you want, My Boy," she said with an unhappy frown. She slowly leaned forward, clearly still quite reluctant.

Deciding to seize the chance while she had it, McGonagall gently placed her wand against the girl's left temple. Sweeping it across her forehead to the other side, she intoned, " _Bellua intellego._ "

There was a sharp crack as the diamond shattered into tiny fragments. The shimmering dust spread through the air, quickly settling on the blank parchment. Almost instantly, black lines began to sear themselves into the blank surface. Harry's eyes widened as the parchment began to fill itself with text right before his eyes.

McGonagall, on the other hand, did not look impressed at all. She gave yet another heavy sigh. "Just as I feared. Completely useless," she muttered.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "What do you mean? That's supposed to tell us what Angel is, right?"

Wordlessly, the professor handed the parchment to Harry. In one corner there was a rather nice sketch. It was of Angel sitting in a chair, a cat - herself - resting in her lap. The rest of the page was full of nonsense. The was an understandable word here and there, but the rest was gibberish. There were even sections that were written entirely in symbols Harry had never seen before.

Beside him, Angel relaxed considerably.

"What's this?"

"That, Mr. Potter, is the result of the Identify Beast Spell." McGonagall answered, rubbing her temples. She'd half expected this, but fitting the cost of a wasted diamond into the budget would be a pain. "The spell was made to identify animals, magical beasts and spirits. It was not made to be used on humans. I'm afraid the fact that your familiar is a human animagus has confused the spell quite badly."

"Oh," Harry said, his brow furrowed as he stared at the paper. Even the few bits that were written in understandable English were pretty unhelpful. "What's a... Cooten?"

"Cutten." Angel helpfully corrected. "It's a me!"

"Uh… okay… so, what's a you? Ah. I mean, what is it?"

"Like I said, it's a me. 'Cu' as in 'cute', 'tten' as in 'kitten'. We're always cute and we're always kittens, so we're cuttens!" Angel declared, clasping her hands under her chin. "We're really popular, 'cuz we're always little and fluffy. Everyone loves a cutten!"

"And are all… cuttens able to cut stone with their fingernails?" McGonagall asked.

"Hmmm… well, not everyone likes cute. Some things even try to eat us! Can you imagine that, something trying to eat someone as cute as me? So, we're really tough and have sharp claws." Angel proudly brandished her fingernails. "We're really popular with adventurers because of that."

"Adventurers?" Harry asked curiously.

"People who like to poop in the woods and go weeks without cleaning up." Angel explained. "They eat all kinds of things off the ground and always stink like sweat and leather. They're soooo dumb that they pick fights with really big things. It's really annoying, because then you have to find someone else to feed you when they get eaten."

"What… what kind of place are you from?"

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall cut in. "It is generally considered polite to not ask such questions."

Harry blinked. "Huh? Why?"

"Think about it, Mr. Potter. Your familiar is not something like a cat or a dog that is simply looking for someone to pet them. She is an intelligent - _relatively_ intelligent - being that has left everything she knows behind in order to come to a world she knows nothing about and serve someone she has never met," McGonagall said softly. "Take a moment to consider _why_ exactly someone would do that."

It didn't take much imagination to come up with the answer. After all, Harry knew very well why he'd been so eager to come to Hogwarts. Leaving behind the Dursley and entering this unknown world had been an easy choice because…

"Ah," he said softly.

"If she wishes to tell you such things, she will in her own time. But if you ask her, she will feel compelled to answer, even if she would prefer not to." McGonagall advised. "After all, we do all have things we would rather not share with others."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Dealing with an intelligent familiar is very different from having a simple animal. I'm afraid it will be a bit of a learning process, as every case is different."

"Um… I'm sorry," Harry awkwardly said to his familiar. "You… you don't have to answer that."

"Oh, that's okay, My Boy. I can tell you about the furry things!" Angel cheerfully declared.

"Furry things?"

His familiar cheerfully nodded. "Yeah, the furry things! They're really fast, and they go crunch when you eat them! They're great!" Angel… bounced… up and down excitedly. "You have little furry things here, right? 'Cuz I'll be really sad if there's nothing to make go crunch!"

"You are not to make things 'go crunch' in this castle, young lady." McGonagall ordered firmly. "Any 'little furry thing' you find within these walls is most likely another familiar."

"They're your friends. It's not nice to crunch your friends," Harry added.

Angel frowned and hummed thoughtfully. "Friends…? Hmm… friends…" she stared at the desk with a look of extreme concentration on her face. "Friends are… good? Sooooo… okay. No crunching friends! I can still crunchy things that aren't friends, right?"

Looking a bit queasy, Harry agreed, "Sure… if you really want to. As long as you're sure they're not friends."

"Yay!" Angel cheered. Before he could react, Harry was once again introduced to Pillow Hell. "You're the best, My Boy! I'll bring you lots and lots of crunchy things!"

"I'd rather you didn't." Harry gasped.

"Ahem." McGonagall interrupted. "While we are on the subject, there shall be no further assaults upon our students. You are not to attack or 'play' with them in a manner that would cause them harm. Is that understood?"

Angel nodded agreeably. She seemed to be concentrating more on keeping Harry trapped in her deadly hug than listening to McGonagall.

"Now, there is the matter of your clothing."

Angel paused and looked at her curiously. Her brief moment of inattention gave Harry the opening he needed to escape her grasp. He quickly retreated to his chair, gasping slightly as he tried to recover from a slight case of oxygen deprivation.

"My clothing?" Angel asked curiously.

"Yes. Your clothing. While we do try take the comfort and preferences of our more human familiars into consideration, what you are wearing is far outside reasonable bounds.."

"Why?"

"Well, among other things, it is far too revealing and looks like it was applied with a brush."

Angel pursed her lips thoughtfully and plucked at her halter top. "Ooh, no. These are just normal clothes, silly. I could do the brush thing if you want, though. I know how."

"I… feel like that would be several steps in the _wrong_ direction." McGonagall sighed.

"Oh. Well, uh… I kinda… lose… clothes a lot. It took a looooong time to figure out how to take this-" she plucked at her top. "-when I'm a kitty."

"You are saying, if I understand properly, that you have a tendency to leave behind your clothing when you change forms?" McGonagall asked in disbelief. She'd never heard of an animagus having such trouble before. Eyeing the girl's teeth and long nails, she frowned. She'd also never heard of an animagus that couldn't change all the way, so there was that to consider.

"Uh-huh. It helps if it's really, really tight. Then it's almost like my skin!" Angel cheerfully added. She emphasized the remark by doing what could only be described as feeling herself up. "And if there's not a lot to take, it's a lot easier!"

"That… does make an odd sort of sense," the professor reluctantly admitted.

"Yep! Plus, it's really icky. I hate it. Really, why do peoples like it so much? Is it because you don't have pretty fur? I guess I'd probably like it if all I had was ugly skin. I'm sooooo glad _my_ skin is almost as perfect as my fur!" rambled the redhead.

McGonagall pointedly cleared her throat, ending the tirade against all things clothing. "Be that as it may, you attire is not acceptable. To put it simply, so that there is no misunderstanding: while you are in this castle, you _will_ wear appropriate clothing," she ordered. "Honestly, I never thought I would be having _this_ conversation twice in one day…"

The redhead stared at her for a long moment, then turned and looked at Harry curiously. "My Boy, should I be wearing appropriate clothing?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think it would make Professor McGonagall happy if you did."

She gave him a thoughtful look, then nodded. "Okay!" she exclaimed happily. She grabbed the bottom of her halter top and pulled, wiggling as she tried to pull it up over her head. Given how tight it was, it seemed to be quite a laborious process.

" _What are you doing!?_ " McGonagall snapped.

Angel paused, the bottoms of her breasts just barely visible. "You said I should wear appropriate clothing."

"And how does that involve stripping in my office?"

The familiar gave her a bland look. "I'm a cat. Cats don't wear clothes."

McGonagall stared. Her left eye developed a slight tic.

The weight against her legs shifted as Ash pushed away. The large feline slunk out from behind the desk, rounding it and coming to a stop next to Angel's chair. The girl stared down at him curiously, the two cats seeming to size each other up. The staring contest stretched on for what seemed like a very long time, both Harry and McGonagall watching it curiously.

Finally, Ash shifted his weight and raised a paw. Angel, in response, leaned down and held out her hand, palm up. Ash's paw immediately descended, slapping the middle of her palm.

Harry blinked. He could safely say he'd never seen a cat high-five someone before. Well, technically it had been a low-five, but it probably still counted.

McGonagall, on the other hand, seemed quite a bit less impressed. She shot the pair a nasty glare that practically screamed, "We are not amused."

A faint "eep" escaped from Angel. She quickly twisted, instantly turning into an adorable kitten. Almost immediately, Ash's large jaws closed on the back of her neck. He hauled her out of the chair, spun, and dashed straight at the wall. Just before he hit it, a small hole - about the size of a doggy door - opened. The cougar vanished into the darkness, kitten dangling from his mouth.

Harry could practically hear the large cat screaming, "Get the hell out of Dodge!"

"Um… what just-"

McGonagall, once again massaging her temples, answered, "The tunnels. Hogwarts is full of them. I do not know who made them or when, but they allow many familiars to travel quickly around the castle."

 _And wander into places they have absolutely no place being,_ she added silently. On more than one occasion during her tenure it had taken a coordinated search of the castle to find a familiar that had wandered too far off the beaten path.

Of course, most eventually "found" in their master's common room, looking confused as to what all the ruckus was about. Your average small animal seemed remarkably good at unlosing itself once the whole castle had been searching for an hour.

"They are also quite useful when a familiar wants to avoid their master's wrath. _Temporarily._ "

"I- I see." Harry said nervously. He'd never been so glad he wasn't a large cat before.

* * *

Long-forgotten emotions tore though her being. One moment she'd been in the middle of a tranquil pond, that next stranded in the middle of a hurricane wracked sea. The change had been so dramatic, so sudden, that she had barely been able to restrain herself. It weren't for the iron-clad control instilled in her over the years, she would have flipped out right there in the center of the Summoning Chamber.

The unbridled fury was the most noticeable feeling. It flowed back up the Bond in an unstoppable torrent, making her feel like her blood had been replaced with molten iron. Every nerve in her body was on fire, burning with the urge to unleash some manner of unspeakable violence. She wanted to lash out, hit something, throw it, smash it into pieces and crush it until nothing was left but dust. Everything she looked at was disgusting, its very existence an insult to her. It was all just begging to be wiped off the face of the Earth.

The rage was accompanied by a host of other emotions. These didn't seem to be coming from the Bond, but were a side-effect of the anger disrupting her control. She was nervous, being called into the Deputy Headmistress' office. She was happy to have summoned what appeared to be a powerful familiar, but at the same time annoyed at how it was affecting her. Worry was present - her concerns over how this might impact her future - but, at the same time, she felt a great deal of curiosity.

All of this, put together, was causing her to act in a manner her mother would _not_ approve of. Daphne Greengrass was fidgeting in her seat, finding her normal calm and poised posture impossible to maintain. Her eyes darted around, searching for anything to distract her from her current predicament. Unfortunately, they just kept sliding back to the professor.

McGonagall was looking decidedly unamused. Thankfully, she didn't seem to be paying much attention to Daphne. Her gaze was focused on the seat next to her, watching its occupant through narrowed eyes.

The occupant glared back. It was kind of hard to pick up any sort of emotion in his eyes. They lacked both pupil and iris, leaving nothing but pure white orbs. Still, if what Daphne was feeling was accurate, he was not very happy at the moment.

"Ms. Greengrass." McGonagall suddenly said.

"Yes, Professor?" Daphne responded. She was actually quite proud that she managed to affect their normal cool, bordering on bored, tone.

McGonagall sighed for seventh time today. Judging by the way her student was acting, and by the way the familiar was staring at her, this was going to be another long interview. "Do you know why you're here?"

 _Because you like wasting my time and you're a crusty old bi-_ Daphne froze. She had no idea where that had come from, but she was really hoping she hadn't said it aloud. Judging by the lack of outrage on the Professor's face, she was probably in the clear.

The anger pouring up her Bond was momentarily replaced by a burst of amusement. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could see her familiar looking at her. There was a smug smile on his face, as if he knew _exactly_ what she'd been about to say.

Daphne did her best to shove down here unnatural rage. "Because of my familiar, Professor. I assume that he is dangerous," she responded. _In more ways than one._

"Very good, Ms. Greengrass. You-"

A massive torrent of fury flooded Daphne, causing her to gasp in surprise.  
" _YOU!_ " the familiar suddenly roared, causing both student and teacher to start. A huge pair of fists slammed into the surface of McGonagall's desk, filling the small office with a loud crash. The desk groaned slightly in protest. "You dare _patronize her!?_ "

McGonagall calmly stared back into his eyes. She had to admit it was a bit unsettling to look into them from this close. Still not bad as that thorny hell, though. "I would appreciate it if you did not assault my desk again. I'm rather fond of it."

The familiar blinked. A second set of hands came down - quite a bit more gently - on either side of the first. He shifted his weight, leaning forward to get a better look at her face. Her desk creaked dangerously. A fifth hand came around to point at her from just inches away from her face.

"Is there something wrong with you? You should be quaking in fear! Don't you know what I am, _woman_?" he growled.

"You are an Asura, a member of one of the seven species of spirit collectively known as the "Embodiments of Sin". McGonagall answered blandly. ""Your species is born of Wrath, making it very violent and unpredictable. Throughout history wizards have tried to employ Asura as weapons, foolishly believing a mere Spirit Binding Ritual could control you. Most of them paid for their arrogance with their lives. I can only assume their ends were rather messy."  
This seemed to please the Asura to some degree. The anger Daphne felt from him suddenly decreased quite drastically. He pushed away from the desk (causing another pained groan) and placed all six hands on his hips. "Heh. _Very_ messy. I have one brother that tore his idiot summoner's arms off and beat him to death with them. Talk about ironic… wait… Is that ironic?"

McGonagall sighed (eight) again. "It seems you do indeed live up to your reputation a crazed, violent brutes," she muttered. Turning towards Daphne (who had gone a bit pale) she said, "You need not worry about such violent retribution, Ms. Greengrass. Calling a spirit with a Spirit Binding Ritual and summoning one via the Summoning Ritual are two very different things. Despite the horrible atrocities they are responsible for, you are in no danger from your own familiar."

"You know, I _hate_ that bullshit," the Asura spat. He slammed an open palm down on the poor, abused desk. "You people are the assholes that call us, but we're the monsters? We just do _exactly what you say_! Well, minus the arm part. We're perfectly happy beatin' the piss outta each other. It's _you people_ that yanks us outta our home and say, 'smash his head like a grape', because someone said some words that hurt your poor widdle feelings."  
"Would you stop that!" Daphne snapped, her patience finally completely eroded by the anger surging through her. "You are being very rude to Professor McGonagall. Sit down!"

The familiar turned to look over his shoulder at her, blinking in surprise.

McGonagall felt much the same.

Being the Deputy Headmaster gave her many responsibilities, one of which was representing the school at social events Albus could not attend. Since her employer almost always happened to have some "prior engagement", that meant she went to pretty much all of them. As such, she knew almost all of the pureblood students to one degree or another.

Daphne had always come across as one of the most mature and collected children McGonagall had ever known, and she'd known quite a few. It wasn't surprising, really, considering that she was the heir apparent of two very high-profile pureblood lines. As the professor understood, she'd had lessons on what her parents considered "appropriate behavior" drilled into her from the time she could talk.

She couldn't say she approved, but it had made for an unusually polite and respectful ten-year-old. That, coupled with the fact that she almost never showed any emotion, had resulted in a rather wide gulf forming between her and other children her age. "The Perfect Princess", "The Ice Queen" and "The Doll" were just a few of the less-than-flattering names McGonagall had heard others call her.

It was almost nice to see her acting like an angry child.

The Asura stared at his master for a moment, then shrugged with four arms and made a negligent gesture with a fifth. The sixth seemed to be occupied with scratching his side. "If you say so, Boss. Your command is my wish." he said casually, giving her a smile that made her seriously question that last part. He dropped heavily back into his chair.

Daphne studied him curiously. The most striking part of him was - of course - his arms. One pair of shoulders looked almost normal, merely being positioned slightly further forward than normal. Two more sets of shoulders were just behind them. They were stacked one atop the other, placed above and below the first set. It made Daphne wonder what exactly his bone structure looked like. There was no way it could be anything like a human's.

His skin was colored like he had an extremely dark tan, but something about it suggested that was its natural color. Massive muscles rippled beneath it. Like, the sort of thing that would make a professional bodybuilder cry with shame and take up basket-weaving instead. His hair was short, spiked and the same snow-white color as his eyes.

Overall, everything about him practically screamed, "Don't fuck with me". Not a bad familiar, if she could deal with the rest of it.

"Now then," McGonagall began, startling her out of her reverie, "It would be best if you gave your familiar a name. It completes the Summoning contract and allows your familiar to share your human soul. This - in layman's terms - makes them more human. It will help to curb his primal nature and less desirable instincts."

The Asura was out of his chair in a flash. " _THAT'S IT!_ " he roared, lunging forward.

"Sparkles!" Daphne screamed reflexively.

Somewhere, on some unseen, metaphysical plane, something went, "Click."

The familiar and professor both froze at her sudden shout. The Asura was halfway across the desk, two hands again on its surface. Their cocked fingers were digging deep into its surface. Another pair of hands were positioned on either side of McGonagall's head, barely an inch from her flesh. Their fingers were slightly bent, ready to do the same thing to her skull he'd done to her desk.

Despite being obviously prepared to unleash horrific, lethal violence, his expression was a bit shocked, maybe even a little concerned. It probably had something to do with the fact that the tip of the witch's wand was digging into his neck, just about where a human's jugular would be. Her lips were pursed, frozen in mid syllable.

He slowly eased back. It might have been Daphne's imagination, but he seemed to be trying to avoid making any sudden moves. Once his hands were a fair distance from her head, McGonagall slowly put her wand back down.

She was getting really tired of feeling like she was going to die in her own office. When she'd been younger, she had detested the idea of dying behind a desk. It was turning out that doing so would be quite a bit more exciting and violent than she'd expected.

Had she known it would be like this, her younger self would have taken Albus up on his offer a full decade earlier.

"Seriously? Sparkles?" The Asura, now apparently Sparkles. "I mean… Sparkles?"

"It was all I could think of." Daphne said coldly. "It's your fault for forcing my hand."

"But… Sparkles?"

"When I was younger I had a stuffed unicorn. It was my best friend until my mother took it away. It was covered with glitter, so I named it Sparkles," she explained. "If you don't like it, perhaps we will change it. If you behave."

"I'm afraid that's not possible." McGonagall declared, resting her lower face against her folded hands. It less because she found it comfortable and more to hide the slight, every unprofessional smirk. "Naming your familiar is like the signature on a contract. It cannot be revoked. I'm afraid… Mr. Sparkles… shall remain as such."

"Oh! Oh dear, I didn't-"

"No, no. It's cool." Sparkles interrupted. He plopped into his chair, tipped backwards and threw a set of arms wide in a grandiose gesture. ""Sparkles it is. Truly a name worth of a walking embodiment of wrath and destruction. All fear the might of Sparkles, destroyer of civilizations and entertainer of little girl's birthday parties."

"I'm saying it was a-"

"Hey, maybe we can get you one of those crazy lust chicks! I've got a great idea! We can name her Chastity!"

"Would you stop? It was an accident."

"Hey, no harm done. It was an accident, just like that time I ripped of someone's head and shoved it up their filthy hole. I totally understand. It happens."

"...have you actually done that?" Daphne asked in disbelief.

"What's the problem? Lotta humans got 'em up there to begin with. I was just helping out."

"You are not to cause permanent harm to anyone in this castle unless I grant you permission or they are a threat to me." Daphne said firmly. "That is an order."

"An interesting and well thought order. Still… 'unless I grant you permission', Ms. Greengrass?" McGonagall asked with a arched eyebrow.

"I've been taught it is always wise to keep your options open," the girl stated. "It's not like I couldn't just countermand the order later, anyway. This just means it'll take less effort."

"Wait, you mean I can't hurt anyone? Are you being serious, Boss?" Sparkles said in disbelief. "Do you even understand what a freakin' Asura is?"

Daphne groaned. Between his behavior and his rampaging emotions, her familiar was starting to fray her nerves. "When, exactly, is his name going to supress his - and I mean no offense by this - 'primal nature', Professor?"

McGonagall blinked at the girl in confusion. "It should have the moment you named him. Why?"

Daphne took a moment to contemplate her inner state. Sympathetic emotions were still whipping back and forth within her, feelings of anger and hatred chief among them. They seemed less intense or unpredictable than they had before.

She looked at Sparkles in confusion.

The Asura gave her a smug smile. "You're kidding, right? Me and my cousins - all of the Seven - come from _your_ desires. You can't make us 'more human' because we're already 'bout as human as you can get."

"Surely you don't mean…"

She got a grin in response. "Can't control me anymore than you people can deny all those nasty little thoughts you have. Accept it and control it. I'm sure you'll be fine." Sparkles shrugged. "And if not, more fun for me. Don't worry, though. Either way, you're the Boss, Boss."

"While we are on the subject of nasty little… things," McGonagall deadpanned, "I would greatly appreciate it if you would order your familiar to wear actual clothing."

Both Daphne and Sparkles looked down to consider the small, black speedo the Asura was wearing.

"Heh. Ain't nothing 'little' going on there." Sparkles grunted. "An' what the hell is wrong with my clothes?"

"You aren't wearing any." Daphne blandly observed

"Hey, you blind, Boss? This is traditional Asura, all the way."

McGonagall was fighting the urge to slam her head into her desk. What in the world was it with familiars and clothing? "That may be so, but I believe 'traditional wizard' garb would be more appropriate in this case. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Greengrass?"

"Yes, professor," Daphne agreed. Glancing at her familiar, she continued, "You will wear appropriate attire at all times."

Sparkles eyed McGonagall's thick robes dubiously. "If you say so, Boss."

"Why did you say it like that?" Daphne demanded.

"Say what like what?"

"When you agreed. You sounded…"

"Oh. Well, it's like this, Boss," Sparkles responded, giving a six-shouldered shrug. He held a hand out towards Daphne.

Curiously, she reached out to take it. An instant later she had to fight down the urge to gasp in shock. His hand was hot, far warmer than a human's. It was almost uncomfortable to hold.

Sparkles gave her a cocky grin. "You've heard've bein' hot under th' collar, right? Maybe felt a little warm when ya got really pissed off?"

"What exactly are you implying?" McGonagall asked.

"You let an Asura warm up and we start feelin' good. 'course, feelin' good for me ain't exactly th' same as it is for you." Sparkles' grin widened. "We start feelin' good an' we wanna have some _fun_. If you think I'm feeling wound up now..."

"It gets worse?" Daphne asked, horror evident in her voice.

Sparkles chuckled. "It gets _better_."

"You are not to wear clothing. Ever." There was a slightly panicked edge to Daphne's order.

The Asura considered her for a moment, then gave another shrug. "Right you are, Boss." One pair of arms dropped to his waist.

"Except that!" Daphne quickly corrected.

"Y'know, Boss, I think I'm gonna like you." Sparkles chuckled. He tilted back in his chair throwing his feet up on McGonagall's desk. Leaning back, he folded one pair of hands behind his head. A second pair of arms folded across his chest. The final set hung loosely at his sides, swinging back and forth slightly.

McGonagall watched with interest, her curiosity momentarily overwhelming her annoyance. The familiar's shoulders had actually shifted to better accommodate his movements. The joints had quickly rearranged themselves, moving several inches to assume a different configuration. The Asura didn't even seem to be aware of it happening.

Some sort of inherent metamorphic magic, perhaps.

Sparkles, for his part, was laughing his ass off internally.

A lot of people assumed that Asura were ignorant brutes. It was understandable, considering their love of smashing things. Despite their brutal natures, it was important to remember that they were spirits of _wrath_. There was no doubt that screaming your head off and slugging someone with a brick was wrath. But people tended to forget something important: changing your identity, befriending your hated, gaining their trust over several years, becoming the center of their existence, then destroying their entire world in front of their disbelieving faces was also wrath.

In other words, wrath could be quite patient and subtle.

Still, this was unbelievable. That had been pretty bad, even for something he'd just pulled out of his ass. It certainly didn't qualify as 'subtle'. Asura got angrier when they warmed up? How the hell was that supposed to work? What part of it was even remotely believable?

In reality, he just didn't want to wear clothes.

His body was built to be an unstoppable engine of destruction. From head to toe, every inch of it was built for maximum devastation. Asura were all about anger and collateral damage, so anything that caused them was a work of art in their eyes. Basically, Asura found their own kind to be more beautiful than just about anything else. And what was the point of having a hot bod if you couldn't show it off?

Asura were, as a species, pretty vain. They got along quite well with their Pride-born cousins.

 _Note to self: humans are unbelievably freaking gullible._

"Well then… this has been an interesting and enlightening interview." McGonagall sighed (nine). "I do believe we are finished her Ms. Greengrass, Mr… Sparkles."

Sparkles' eyes narrowed. "What the hell was that look?"

"What look?" McGonagall asked innocently.

"You were laughing at me, weren't you?"

"Why I certainly-"

" _DON'T LAUGH AT ME!_ " Sparkles screamed lunging off the chair. All six fists came down on McGonagall's desk with incredible force, a deafening crash filling the small office. The surface of the desk was instantly reduced to a mass of splinters by the force of the blow. The legs screamed in protest before exploding into shards, dropping it to the ground.

"...and don't ever piss me off _, woman._ " Sparkles finished with a feral grin. That had been satisfying. Like, really, really satisfying.

In spite of what he'd said, being connected to the girl was affecting him quite a bit. He could almost feel the part of her personality that had become his own influencing him. It was like a sliver of frozen steel shoved into his raging inferno. It was a cold and empty thing, barely deserving of the word 'personality'. He'd be the first to admit he didn't know a whole lot about humans, but he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to be like this.

Whatever the case, it was making it hard to maintain a decent rage. Any time he started to get pisssed off, that new, cold part of him pushed it back down. All he could really manage was a low simmer, which was quite annoying. Luckily, it seemed the personality fragment had trouble dealing with sudden, intense bursts of fury. He could still get pissed and smash shit, so that was good enough for him.

Besides, this could end up working out alright. As far as he was concerned, most humans were completely pathetic. They were weak and cowardly, not worth even the slightest shred of respect. It wouldn't do to let his Boss be one of them. If she was this empty, it would be that much easier to make sure she turned out right.

McGonagall blinked in shock. She hadn't even had time to see the blow coming, let alone do anything about it. Unfortunately, her finely-tuned reflexes were of little use if the violence wasn't aimed at her or hers. She didn't have a lot of experience protecting furniture, after all.

With yet another sigh (ten), she did the only thing she could do.

"Twenty points from Slytherin."

* * *

Peace had clearly rotted this society's brains.

There were absolutely no defenses in the office. No alarm spells, no traps - incapacitating or lethal - at all, not even a bound animal to watch over it. Any sane mage would _at least_ have an alert spell around the perimeter or a bound raven in the corner. A certain level of caution was expected, almost required, from any magic user. But the Deputy Headmistress' office lacked anything of the sort. There was a moderately powerful locking spell on the door, but that was it.

The small shadow lurking just outside the office sighed. This sort of negligence was almost criminal. To make it worse, it was the woman's own familiar that'd shown her the way in. It probably hadn't even occurred to Big Kitty what he was doing when he dragged her into the tunnels.

She'd have to thank him for that at some point, even if he'd only done it to escape Mean Lady. The small passages went literally everywhere. In fact, they went almost too many places. Even following Big Kitty's scent, it had taken far too long to find her way back here. She'd gotten turned around more than once, and she was certain she'd actually ended up outside the castle a few times.

She was also pretty sure she'd climbed far higher in the walls than was physically possible, but she was trying not to think about it too much. That sort of thing tended to happen when you gathered too much magic in one area. All thinking about it too much did was give you a nasty headache and cause you to question the very nature of life, the universe and everything.

Those weren't thoughts particularly suited to a simple kitten's brain.

Angel sighed as she looked around the office again. The small collection of devices scattered around the room all seemed to serve a purpose. There was nothing that made light, wobbled around or scattered confetti simply for the sake of it. The large, leather-bound tomes that lined the shelves were impressive, but all their spines were well-worn.

The woman obviously wasn't much for pomp and theatrics, so that was a point in her favor.

There was a living portrait on each of the side walls. The frames were empty at the moment, leaving nothing but a pair of rather nice landscapes. The subjects had most likely fled their frames to take refuge elsewhere.

Angel gave an indifferent shrug. It worked out in this case, at least. She didn't have to worry about any witnesses. There was not a soul around to see the small kitten suddenly become a buxom redhead.

She eyed the ruined desk as she slipped around the corner to stand by the Professor's chair. What in the world had happened here? The thick wood surface had been completely ruined, collapsed into a splinter-filled crater. All four legs were off, leaving the piece of furniture sitting unsupported on the floor. It looked like it had been hit with a siege engine.

She sighed and lowered herself into a crouch. Whatever. It wasn't like it was really her problem either way. All that mattered was her Boy's scent, and the fact that it was coming from the desk's bottom right drawer.

Peering into the keyhole, she frowned. Again, the witch had left herself completely defenseless. There was no locking spell of any sort on the drawer. It was held shut by nothing more than a simple, physical lock. It wasn't even a particularly good lock, though it did seem to be made to resist weaker unlocking spells.

Two slim nails slid into the keyhole. Positioning them carefully, she gave a slight push. Maneuvering past the obstructions and using the blunt side of her nails to move the bar that served as a crude tumbler rewarded her with a faint click.

Stupid, stupid people. Hadn't anyone in this world invented a decent lock yet?

She quickly rifled through the drawer, quickly flipping through the stack of papers within. It only took a moment to find the one she wanted. Though her Boy had handled it hours ago, it still had his scent.

The drawing in the corner really was a nice likeness of her. She couldn't help but admire the fine detail that had gone into it. You could almost see her individual hairs, and both her bell and her ribbon nicely drawn.

A sharp nail gently ran across a line of text, pausing when it reached a group of the strange symbols. She'd never heard of a spell that could do something like this before, but it was impressively accurate. Too accurate, really.

There wasn't even a whisper of sound as a nail traced the edges of the sketch, severing it from the rest of the parchment. She probably shouldn't keep it, she knew, but it was such a nice picture. Flattering, really. It wasn't very often that someone managed to capture her beauty so nicely.

Despite its beauty, something about the picture seemed a little bit off. It wasn't really apparent unless you really studied the drawing, and even then it was hard to explain exactly what was wrong. But something about it suggested that neither the cat nor the girl was the central focus. As if they were caught by a camera just as it changed focus, both seemed a bit vague despite the fine detail that had gone into them. It was like the artist forgot who he was supposed to be drawing halfway through, but finished the picture anyway.

With a faint nod, she slid the small slip of paper under her halter top. She'd find a safe place to stash it later on.

The remainder of the parchment was quickly crumpled up and tossed into the fireplace. The magical flames were little more than embers, but they still consumed it greedily.

Angel quickly rearranged the drawer so that everything was exactly where it had been. She quietly closed it and used her nails to lock it again. Taking one last look around the room, she gave a satisfied nod.

There was a faint whoosh of inrushing air, then the quiet sound of stone scraping on stone. Bricks, their hair-fine seams normally invisible, shifted aside to form a small opening. Without a sound, a tiny cat vanished into the wall.

* * *

"You're sure? All over his back? His leg too?"

"Could've been an accident, right?"

"Maybe not. You saw what he was wearing."

"And he flinched the first time I touched him."

"Does every time. Just not as bad."

"Should we tell someone? Dumbledore?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure our completely insane Headmaster would be a ton of help."'

"The aurors?"

"Muggle family. The aurors won't do jack."

"So…"

"Maybe we should owl Uncle Anarawd?"

"Well, we are about due. It's not tax season, right?"

"No. He shouldn't be too busy right now."

"Heh. Mum'd go spare."

"I dunno. Maybe not this time…"

"Right. Let's find some parchment."

* * *

"Don't worry, Poppy. I'm sure it's nothing."

"But Albus, his back! And his leg… it looks like he was savaged by an animal!"

"Boys will be boys, my dear. It's not unusual to get a scrape here and there."

"This was no scrape, Headmaster! It looks like most of his back was burned and left untreated."

"An accident then. Everyone has a bit of bad luck here and there."

"Albus… I'm afraid his family… might be…"

"Surely not, Poppy. They're his family. The are bound by the bond of love. Such a thing is unthinkable."

"Albus…"

"Worry not, Poppy. I'm quite certain all is well."

"If- if you say so, Albus. If you're sure."

"And I am sure. Don't let it bother you, Poppy. Harry is as healthy and happy as a boy can be!"

* * *

A small form surveyed the Gryffindor common room, perched in a small entrance to the familiar tunnels. It was one that was almost never used, being positioned high in the wall above the fireplace. The shadowed nook it rested in made it very hard to see, but it offered an excellent view of the room.

The room was now empty, the students retired to their beds. That didn't matter, though. It had already learned plenty of interesting things.

The stones closed over as the shadow crept back into the tunnels.

 _Very_ interesting things…


	9. Somehow

Something Familiar

Chapter 9: "Somehow Breakfast Became Most of a Chapter"

AKA: "I Have No Idea How This Happened"

* * *

Deep within the Forbidden Forest, something stirred.

To call it a shadow would be an insult. It was no _mere_ shadow; it was what ambitious shadow children hoped they'd be when they grew up. Even just a few days after the new moon, far below the thick canopy of the forest, it stood out as a black blotch in the darkness.

It had just barely managed to make it here. The prey had been strong, far stronger than prey should be. To think it would fight back, and even manage to inflict damage upon it. Its injuries were dwarfed by its embarrassment. Why hadn't the idiotic bag of protein embraced oblivion and been grateful for the gift that it was?

The encounter had taught it a valuable lesson, however. Weak-looking as they were, you still couldn't underestimate the meat. Multiple times its meal had been in its grasp, only to be snatched away. It should have been so simple, but it had been denied its purpose again and again.

It had been stupid, standing there and simply waiting for prey to fall into. It had to be smarter than that, it now knew. There was a proper place to hunt, and it wasn't in the light. There was a proper way to hunt, and it wasn't passively waiting.

With no scent nor sound, there was nothing to give it away. The small stoat didn't even know it was there until it fell upon the beast. The small creature tried to cry out in pain, but it was useless. The sound was lost as darkness closed over its face.

Next time, there'd be no escape.

* * *

Harry awoke in a panic. His eyes snapped open, only to be greeted by darkness. That wasn't so unusual, though, since the last thing he remembered was lying down for his first night's sleep in his new home. Darkness was only to be expected. No, there was another issue that he found far more pressing, an absolutely critical problem that he felt the need to remedy immediately.

It would appear that breathing was something he was not currently capable of. His face was being pressed firmly into something soft and warm. It probably would have been quite comfortable under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, it seemed to be rather effectively cutting off his supply of precious, life-giving air.

Harry, half-awake and slightly oxygen deprived, did the completely reasonable and rational thing given such a situation. He completely and totally lost it.

Twisting around, he got his arms in front of him and frantically shoved with all the might a scrawny preteen could manage. His herculean effort accomplished absolutely nothing. A pair of steel cords, thick and unyielding, were wrapped tight around his back. If anything, his struggles only prompted them to pull tighter. His face was mashed into the warm obstruction even further, a feat he wouldn't have thought possible.

Now, not only could he not breath, but what little air he had left was being squeezed right out of him. His lungs starting to burn, he redoubled his efforts. Unsurprisingly, his struggles didn't work any better the second time than they did the first. It didn't help that he couldn't really get any leverage, due to what felt like an iron bar pinning his legs to the mattress.

 _This is it. This is how it all ends,_ Harry lamented. His heart was hammering in his chest harder than it ever had before. Not even running around all afternoon as the quarry in an enthusiastic game of Harry Hunting could match this. _It was a short run, but at least I got to be a wizard. For two days._

There was a giggle.

"Waffles…" muttered Angel. She half rolled over in her sleep, slipping her arms from around Harry in the process.

This proved to be both good and bad for Harry. The good, of course, was that it allowed him to yank his head away from her cleavage and get some much-needed air. Unfortunately, he was still pushing against her as hard as he could muster. This, as far as he was concerned, definitely qualified as bad.

Suddenly he discovered that pushing away from his familiar was way, way too easy. One moment he was struggling for air, the next he was sending himself hurtling off his bed. Making the situation worse was the fact that one of Angel's legs was still wrapped tightly around his own. His top and bottom halves had a brief disagreement as to whether or not they were staying on the bed. Eventually they decided to compromise, his legs staying put and his torso hurtling towards the floor.

He twisted awkwardly, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to recover. Gravity, coupled with his firmly-anchored shins, caused him to bend at the knees. His torso whipped around in a tight arc, slamming into the wooden frame of his bed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. At almost the same time, his head slammed into the floor hard enough to rattle his brain.

Angel chose exactly that moment to finish rolling over. His legs were released, freeing the rest of his body to slide off the bed and land on his face. He collapsed onto the floor, a vaguely Harry-shaped pile.

"Ouch…"

"Harry?" Neville's voice quietly called. "That you? Are you okay? What happened?"

"I had a little bit of a disagreement with the floor, but I'm pretty sure I won." Harry quietly focused and took an inventory of his parts. "I didn't hurt my spleen, I think. That means I'm fine, right? Everyone knows you're alright as long as you've got your spleen. That's how I won, y'see. I've got more spleens than the floor."

"Uh… how hard did you hit the floor? Are you sure you're okay? Because you're talking kind of weird."

"Hmm… My head's all fuzzy. I don't know if that's hypoxia, tasting the floor or part of a vast tumbleweed conspiracy. Could be any one of them, really."

"Maybe… maybe I should take you to the Hospital Wing." Neville muttered. "You're going to have to help me get out of bed first, though."

Harry tried to shake some of the cobwebs out of his head. Unfortunately, it seemed like some of them intended to be long-term residents. It was annoying, but it wasn't exactly something he was unfamiliar with. The past two days had been rough, but he'd certainly had it rougher.

Shakily rounding his bed, he asked, "Why in the world would you need help getting up? Can't y-"

Neville's bed looked like someone had picked up a small hunk of jungle and dropped it in the middle of the dorm. A dozen different varieties of flowers had bloomed all over. Creepers wound around the posts so thick that he could barely see the wood beneath. The curtains were completely gone, replaced with heavy drapes made entirely of vines and leaves. Thick, root-like growths had made an absolute wreck of the top, tearing holes as they wound their way through it. As for the mattress…

The mattress of the bed had become a tangled mass of assorted plant parts. It looked like someone had once had a nice, little garden, but had neglected it until it had become hopelessly overrun. Harry could see a toe here, a finger there, something that might be part of a neck up here…

Making sense of the mess was just hopeless, so he settled for leaning forward and meeting the gaze of the one eye he could see.

"Neville? Is that you under there?" Harry asked curiously.

There was a groan. "Who else would it be, Harry? Could you do me a favor and get me out of here?"

"Did the tumbleweeds do this to you? Did they roll in while you were sleeping? I think they may have smuggled themselves in on the Express, you know." Harry whispered conspiratorially.

Neville stared at him. "Merlin, you did hit pretty hard… It's Orchid, Harry. Obviously."

"Oh, good. For a moment I thought the End Times were upon us."

"Uh, yeah. We should _really_ get to the Hospital Wing."

"No, no. I'm good. My brain is breathing again. It's all tingly. It feels kind of nice." Harry announced. "You know, I've never been suffocated before. I give it a two out of ten. As far as near-death experiences go, it was sadly lacking."

"Look, just get me out of here. I really need to use the loo."  
Harry narrowed his eyes and stared into Neville's visible orb. "I thought you wanted to bring me to the Hospital wing."

"I want to use the loo _and_ bring you to the Hospital wing. I'd be best if we did it in that order, too." Neville said reasonably. "It's not like we can't do both."

"Right. So, you're sure that's your familiar? I mean… I guess you know, but she looked a lot more girl-like earlier." Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I remember because you said she was a plant, but she didn't really look much like a plant. I figured you'd just gotten into that butt beer the twins had."

"It's butterbeer. And Orchid's an alura une. They only look like girls so it's easier for them to eat people."

"Oh. That seems reasonable." Harry nodded. "So, if she's your familiar, why don't you tell her to let you up?"

Neville sighed. "I already tried that. I think she's asleep or something."

Scratching his head, Harry said, "She's asleep? I didn't even know plants could be asleep."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that plants could be hot, either. But apparently they can, so I guess they can be asleep, too."

"She gets hot?"

"No. No she doesn't. She-" Neville paused. "Look, nevermind that. Just get me out of here.

Frowning, he studied Neville's bindings with great interest. The thick vines were wrapped tightly around almost every inch of his flesh. They were covered with large, sharp thorns that glistened suspiciously in the dim light. Harry had a feeling they were bad news, and not just because they could prick you. "Gimme a few minutes. I'm going to go find something sharp."

"What!? Why?"

"So I can cut you out, obviously. Why else would I need a knife right now? It's not like I have some cheese that desperately needs to be cut."

"No! You can't hurt Orchid! That'd hurt her!" Neville protested. "At least, I think it would hurt her. I'm not really sure. But, either way, you're not cutting my familiar! Just untangle me or something."

"Are you kidding? You look like some sort of… vine mummy… or something. I'd have better luck solving a four-dimensional Rubik's Cube."

"What's a- No, forget it. You're not cutting me out."

"Yeah, I agree, actually. It just occured to me that stabbing a man-eating plant with a butter knife might not be a good idea." Harry pointed out. "I'd go with Plan B, but I have no idea where I'd get a crowbar, Vaseline and a rubber ducky at this time of night."

"Harry, please stop messing around."

"I'm not! I assure you, the Vaseline is absolutely vital to the plan."

"Harry, I've been holding it for… uh…"

Harry walked over and picked up the large pocket watch on his friend's nightstand. It was an old-fashioned affair, the kind you wound by hand. It had a rather impressive crest on the front.

"It's 4:13."

"Seriously, I've been holding it for, like, two hours."

"Yeah, that is a-" Harry paused. "Wait, how would you even know that? Did you somehow get up and check the time when you woke up? If you did, why the heck didn't you just go to the bathroom then?"

"I guessed, okay? Forget it. You've really got to find a way to get me out of here. You got me out of that bush, remember?"

"Uh… I'm pretty sure this is totally different."

"Well, you've got to do _something_! I'm counting on you here."

Harry thought for several seconds. "So.. uh.. Neville. I think I've got a plan. It's guaranteed to work, but it requires certain… sacrifices."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Have you considered, y'know, just… going?" Harry slowly asked.

"..."

"You know, like right there? You wouldn't even have to get up or anything."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant. I was just trying to think of a nice way to ask you what the heck is wrong with you. What the heck is wrong with you!?"

"Hey, it's not like it's a big deal." Harry said defensively. "She's a plant, right? Plants like water!"

"That's absolutely disgusting. I don't care if she's a plant, no one likes getting… that… on them!"

Harry looked away from his friend. He wasn't going to tell him. He absolutely wasn't going to. Not a day went by that he didn't wish he'd never found those magazines while cleaning Vernon and Petunia's room. He'd welcome a bit more oxygen-deprivation if it could get rid of those memories. There was no way he was inflicting that trauma on someone else.

Meanwhile, on the bed, Orchid moved in her sleep. Leaves swayed lightly with the motion. The vines on the posts tightened for a moment, causing the wood to creak. Several new flowers sprouted and bloomed, while others withered and died. And finally, the creepers binding Neville to the bed shifted, causing a dozen thorns to scratch lightly at his flesh.

A faint tingling spread across his skin, while a warmth flooded through him. All of a sudden, his urgent need seemed unimportant. He felt so nice, and his body felt so very heavy. Even his face… his eyes… getting… heavy…

"Okay, so Plan A ends with me being eaten, Plan B has been aborted due to lack of supplies and you pointlessly refuse to go with Plan C." Harry rattled off. "I'm stumped, so unless you have a Plan E, we're out of luck."

"..."

"So, that's a no, then?"

"..."

"Ah, Neville?"

"..."

"Whoa, are you asleep? Really? After all that, you just fell back asleep?" Harry asked incredulously.

"..."

"I… just realized you're probably not going to answer that question. Wow. Maybe I did hit my head pretty hard. Maybe I should go to the Hospital Wing." Harry muttered. He really didn't want to spend two nights in a row there. "Or… I could just take a shower. That usually helps."

Shrugging, he turned around and pushed aside his bed's curtain. If Angel was awake, he should probably let her know where he was going.

"Angel, I"m going… to… take a…" he trailed off.

Angel was sprawled across the bed in a position that looked like it couldn't possibly be comfortable. Still clearly asleep, it looked like even an earthquake wouldn't be enough to wake her. It also seemed important to note that she was completely naked.

 _Well… I guess no one would want to sleep in those clothes. It'd probably be good to get her some pajamas, though._

The familiar muttered in her sleep and stretched, arching her back and thrusting out her chest. She then rolled over to curl up into a ball, exposing her bottom.

 _Yeah...pajamas are a good idea. Professor McGonagall would flip if she saw this…_

Shaking his head, he exited the first-year dorms. He only made it a few steps before his foot bumped into something soft. He gasped and stumbled, trying fruitlessly to regain his balance. This caused him to cross the landing much faster than he'd planned to. Luckily for his poor brain, he managed to raise a hand and slap it against the stone wall just inches before his face slammed into it.

He whirled around, actually a little angry now. Who in the world just dropped something right outside the door!? You couldn't just leave a… fox…

The small Weasley familiar stared up at him, giving him a wounded look..

"Oh! I'm sorry." Harry exclaimed. "Are Ru okay?"

The fox stared harder.

"See, it's funny because your name is Ru and 'Ru' sounds like 'you' so it…" Harry trailed off. "Yeah, that really not funny, is it?"

Ru shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I kind of hit my head. I was just going to take a shower. That usually helps, so I'll be okay in a few minutes. I usually shake it off pretty quick."

Harry had glanced across the landing towards the entrance to the bathroom, so he missed the brief change in the fox's eyes. By the time he looked back, she was again staring up at him curiously.

"So… I'm just going to-"

Without warning, the vulpine familiar whipped up his body. She quickly occupied his shoulder, sitting on her new perch proudly.

Harry stared at her. "Uh… Ru, you know I'm going to take a shower, right?"

The fox gave him a look that quite clearly said, "I'm not stupid" and didn't budge.

After staring at her for a few more moments, Harry shook his head. "Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter. If you want to come, go ahead. You're just a fox, after all."

A white tail slammed hard into the back of his head. Well, it slammed into his head about as hard as six inches of snowy poof could manage. That wasn't particularly hard. In fact, it tickled more than anything.

"Hey! I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested. "I just meant… You know what? I'm just gonna go. With a fox. For some reason."

The bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower were set up much like those in muggle universities all across Britain and America. There were, of course, a number of stalls for those that had to water the flowers (the expression causing Harry to giggle, drawing a strange look from his companion), and the necessary sinks to accompany them in. Harry, however, was more interested in the showers in the far wall. They were deep, dual-partitioned nooks, providing both a small area to strip in and and equally small shower area.

"Alright, the Harry Express stops here. I'm pretty sure I don't need a fox's help to shower." he announced.

Ru dug her claws in and stared at him defiantly.

Harry stared right back. "If you come in there with me, I'm using you as a bath pouf." he calmly declared.

His companion's look changed from one of defiance to horrified disbelief.

"I'll do it. Don't think I won't. I'm crazy. But look at the bright side: your coat will get a nice shampooing."

The fox hopped down to the floor, where it proceeded to give him a hurt look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. When I'm done, you can come down to the common room with me. I want to look at some of my books before classes start."

Deciding it was probably best to ignore the fox, he quickly turned and entered on of the shower noocks. He had been really glad to see they were set up like this. It afforded a high degree of privacy, and even gave him somewhere to change. He'd originally been a bit worried about that, especially when he'd ended up with an intelligent(ish) familiar. It wasn't like he could just change hidden in his bed. With how unpredictable she seemed, there was no guarantee she wouldn't burst in on him.

But he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him here, not even her. It wasn't like she was going to burst into the men's bathroom.

Probably.

Thankfully, he'd been right. The cool water did a lot to clear his head up. He _must_ have been knocked a bit silly, because he had no idea what he'd been talking about there. I mean, really, the Tumbleweed Conspiracy? What absolute nonsense. There was no way they'd go after Neville. His familiar was a plant made entirely of horror and pain. It'd be like a puppy attacking a wolf.

He started to plan out his morning as he struggled to get his clothing on over his still-damp flesh. Why was that always so annoyingly difficult?

It was probably safe to go back up to the dorm and throw on some robes. Angel was asleep more soundly than he'd ever seen someone before, and something told him Neville wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Seamus' curtains had been half-open, giving Harry a good look at the boy buried under a particularly large irish wolfhound. Finally, judging by the snores, Dean and Ron wouldn't be going anywhere for a bit.

A strange noise caught his attention, causing him to look up. There, balanced on the curtain rod, was Ru. She was looking down at him with great interest, following her every movement. It was hard to judge, because reading a fox's expression wasn't always easy, but she seemed extremely annoyed about something.

Up above the curtain, Ru was feeling a bit more than annoyed. Her tiny claws were making good progress towards driving holes through the metal rod.

Harry blinked. "Are you a pervert?" he asked.

Ru was so shocked by the sudden question that she almost fell from her perch. She was forced to scramble at the metal to climb back up, shredding the top of the curtain in the process.

"No, really. You're not going to offer me candy, are you?" Harry asked. "Because I'm pretty sure I don't want a ride in your van…"

Her position once again secure, she stared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I'm just asking because I don't want to have to point at a doll, that's all. It-"

He was cut off as the fox launched off the curtain rod and delivered a brutal, double-pawed smack to his head. Leaping off his face, she ricocheted off the wall and landed heavily on his shoulder. She proceeded to give him a nasty glare from her new seat.

"Ow. I was kidding." Harry insisted. He glared to the fox, who was now giving him a curious look. "What?"

She leaned over, digging her rear claws into his pajamas for stability, and smacked his back.

"Uh…"

Giving him an exasperated look, Ru repeated the action.

"...oh. My back." Harry muttered.

He'd been asked about it before, of course. Sometimes it was hard to keep hidden, and people were bound to be curious, given the severity. He'd always been good at avoiding attention, though, and was pretty good at thinking on his feet. Putting on and innocent face wasn't that hard, and he'd gotten pretty good at deflecting attention over the years. The hat _had_ wanted to put him in Slytherin.

Normally, he'd do exactly that. If someone came around the Dursley's asking the wrong kind of questions, there'd be hell to pay. He knew that because he'd actually tried once, but the people who had come to see him had never come back, even though they left looking quite disgusted. All that had come out of it was a good thrashing and a week in his cupboard.

Still, Ru was just a fox. It's not like it would matter, right? And it'd probably feel good to talk about it, even if it was just an animal he spoke to.

"I've always cooked for the Dursleys. Ever since I could reach the stove. One day, I was cooking breakfast. I was making the second serving of bacon, but Uncle Vernon finished his before I was done. He shoved me off my stool and threw the pan at me. It was cast iron, and when the grease- Ow!"

Harry cried in shock as Ru's claws bit deep into his skin. It was pretty obvious why the twins feared her wrath: that hurt! It was painful enough that he flinched violently, spilling the fox to the floor.

"What was that for!?" Harry demanded.

The fox gave him an apologetic look, turned her head and made a slight sneezing sound.

"...you sneezed…? It didn't sound like you sneezed."

Ru made a much quieter sneezing sound.

"Is every familiar insane?" Harry groaned. Then he took a minute to think about the sorts of wizards he'd met. "You know what? Never mind. Come on." He patted his shoulder invitingly.

The fox obligingly climbed back up.

"Why are you wandering around alone this late, anyway?" asked Harry. He wandered across the landing, quietly entering his dorm. "Shouldn't you be with your wizard? Or one of them, at least?"

Ru went limp, collapsing against his neck. Her head drooped to the side, allowing her tongue to loll out. She made a slight snorting noise.

"Ah." Harry nodded. "Yeah, my, uh, my cat is pretty much like that right now. See?" He opened his bed's curtain slightly to demonstrate.

Angel was facing them, curled up into a tight ball. Harry's pillow was currently wrapped in her arms, crushed into a small ball by the girl's death grip. Harry couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the poor thing.

From his shoulder, Ru gave him a questioning look.

"Hey, don't look at me. She was like that when I woke up. I have no idea where her clothes went." Harry protested. "She was a kitty when I fell asleep."

The fox shrugged and hopped off his shoulder. Landing lightly on the mattress, she quietly slunk up to the redhead. Once she reached her, she gave the other familiar a few experimental smacks to the face.

"Don't do that." Harry ordered. "She might decide to hug you."

Eyes widening in horror, Ru leapt back like she'd just licked an electric fence. It proved to be a fortuitous move. Perhaps sensing something soft and warm, Angel's arm whipped out and nearly intercepted the fox in midair. She missed by a hair's breadth. Instead of catching the fox she ended up grabbing the blanket and yanking it to her, claws shredding part of the mattress in the process.

Staring at the torn bedding, Ru gave a relieved squeak.

"Told you." Harry said. His voice was a bit muffled, which wasn't surprising considering he was half buried in his trunk. Going back to sleep wasn't really appealing after a cold shower and a blow to the head, so he figured he'd go down to the common room and read one of his books. Potions seemed particularly interesting, since it sounded a lot like cooking.

Gathering his robes and book, Harry glanced at the fox. "I'm going to change in the bathroom. You can come, if you promise not to peek this time."

Ru quickly reoccupied his shoulder, which he took as consent. Harry headed back towards the lavatory, sincerely hoping that the day got better. Things could only go up from here, right?

A strange feeling swept through Harry as he crossed the threshold. Suddenly it felt like someone had dipped his soul in an Arctic pool. His insides were so cold it burned. An unfamiliar feeling welled up inside of him: a furious desire to hurt something.

The feeling was gone almost instantly. Harry shook his head, shivering slightly. Maybe he should go to the Hospital Wing after all. If he was having some sort of weird hallucinations, he'd hit his head a lot harder than he'd thought.

Still… he hated hospitals. And he did want to read his Potions book.

Ignoring Ru's questioning look, he headed back into the lavatory to change.

Back in the dorm, Angel watched Harry disappear through eyes that were open little more than a hair. Feeling so close to someone was nice, but it seemed like sharing your soul had some disadvantages. From how her master had reacted just then… she'd have to be more careful about that.

Closing her eyes, she brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face. Personally, she was more of a bath person.

* * *

Harry was one of the first to arrive at breakfast. He supposed that was what happened when you got up at four in the morning. Most of his fellow Gryffindors were just starting to stir as he was leaving the tower. When he arrived in the Great Hall, there were only a few other students there. Most were over at the Ravenclaw table, munching away at their food and staring at a book.

There was a small menagerie of animals (and other things) hanging around. Most were either sitting near their wizards or half-asleep in one of the plush animal beds that littered the area beneath the tables. So far he'd counted 3 cats, 4 dogs, 2 birds of some sort, what appeared to be a spider monkey and a horse. The horse had pulled one of the beds out from under a table and was comically trying to lay in a piece of furniture intended for a much smaller creature.

There had also been several 'somethings'. Harry had no idea what any of those had been. Even the ones that had resembled a normal creature had been different and strange enough to make him doubt his eyes.

As a large platter of food appeared before Harry, his eyes widened in amazement. Most would assume it was due to the magical manner by which the food had arrived. That, however, wasn't the case. What had truly shocked Harry was the realization that he was about to eat a breakfast that he hadn't cooked. In the face of that revelation, magically appearing bacon seemed trivial.

Before he could so much as reach for a pancake, something small and heavy slammed into the back of his skull. Prickles of pain lit up across his head. With a cry of, "Gah!" he reached back and grabbed the projectile, yanking it away from his tender flesh. Whipping his arm around, he glared at the red kitten held tight in his grip. She gave him an innocent look as she hung by the scruff of her neck.

"Myah!" she said in greeting. It didn't sound exactly like a normal cat's meow, but it was close enough.

"Why did you do that?" Harry demanded.

She tilted her head curiously and said, "Myah?"

A heavy sigh was the only appropriate response Harry could come up with. "Please tell me you're wearing clothes now?"

"Myah!"

Harry froze in shock as something occurred to him. "Wait! No, you don't have to-"

The space that was previously occupied by a small kitten was suddenly struggling to contain a much larger redhead. It completely and utterly failed. Positioned between Harry and the table as she was, her sudden expansion forced both of them off the bench. Harry hit the stone floor with considerably more force than he was comfortable with. The back of his head slammed into Hogwarts herself for the second time that day.

Angel landed on him an instant later, pressing him hard against the stone. His face was immediately introduced to a rather intimate place that it was quickly becoming accustomed to. He had just barely managed to lift his head off the floor before the overwhelming might of her assets forced it back down. His grunt of pain was muffled by his familiar's soft flesh as his brain rattled in his skull once again.

 _At what point is this going to start causing permanent damage…?_

"Oooh, thank you, My Boy. You saved me from hitting the floor. I bet that's ouchie." Angel said happily.

Harry responded with a faint, "Gurk…" He was pushing against her with all his might, just barely managing to get enough space to breath.

"My, my. Isn't it a bit early in the morning for that, Harrykins?"

"Indeed. Defiling your pure familiar on the second day, Harrypits?"

Harry gritted his teeth in effort. He wasn't exactly the strongest person, and his familiar outweighed him by quite a bit. "Would. You. Get. Her. Off. Me!?"

George leaned down with a sigh and put his hand on Angel's shoulder. "Now, now, lovely kitten. Every man loves a view of the valley-"

Fred matched his brother, putting his hand on her other shoulder. "-but you're about to send him to the bottom of the abyss. Why don't you get up and have some bacon. Everyone loves bacon."

"Except fascists, brother." George corrected. "Fascists hate bacon."

"Well, that's because fascists hate everything good in this world, George."

"Maybe we'd better keep an eye on the little Draccypants. Ten-to-one odds says he doesn't eat the bacon."

"That's a sucker's bet. No deal."

"Ooh! They have bacon!" Angel exclaimed. She fluidly spun to her feet and looked down at Harry. "What are you doing on the floor, My Boy? There's bacon." She stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened in horror. "Gasp! You're not a fascist, are you?"

"Did she just actually say, 'gasp', my brother?" Fred whispered.

George nodded.

"Not a fascist. Just have a concussion." Harry groaned.

"Oh, that's good! I'm not sure what a fascist is, but they must be bad if they don't like bacon." Angel leaned down and easily hauled her master off the floor. "Wait… are concussions a good thing?"

There was a heavy sigh. "Must we always begin the day with such uncouth displays?"

Fred and George immediately dropped to their knees, lowered their heads and cried out, "Our eternal allegiance, your Majesty. All hail the King!"

Shaking his head, King walked past them without acknowledging them. "I shall take that as an affirmative, then." he muttered. He slid into a seat, frowning as the poor piece of furniture groaned in protest. Lady slid into his lap almost as soon as his rear hit the floor and snatched a piece of bacon, holding it in front of his mouth.

Harry experienced a brief moment of weightlessness as Angel yanked him into the air and plopped him down into a chair. She happily sat down next to him and skewered a piece of delectable breakfast meat with one of her nails.

"Is she made of water?" she asked, eyeing Lady. She'd sort of noticed her during the Summoning, but hadn't payed much attention to her. Her boy was much more important, so she'd mainly be focused on him. It wasn't every day that someone actually _wanted_ you, after all.

"Indeed she is," King responded. He took the bacon out of Lady's hand and ate it. The elemental slumped visibly. "Oh, do not behave as if you were the wounded party. You know better than to try and sneak into the shower with me. Putting aside the fact that I have forbidden it, what if you went down the drain again?"

Lady sulked, the expression somehow clear despite her mostly featureless face. Her expression quickly changed to shock, however, as a butter knife slammed into the bridge of her nose and out the back of her head. The impromptu projectile sail across the hall, slowed considerably but still moving.

There was a pained cry from elsewhere in the hall, followed by a shocked cry.

"Ohmygod! Cho!"

"Wow! She really is made of water! That's so cool!"

"Angel!" Harry snapped, horrified. "You can't do that! What if she _wasn't_ water!?"

The familiar rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, My Boy. It was just a butter knife. It wouldn't've even made it all the way through her skull."

"Through her skull?" George mouthed to his brother.

"Anyway, no one got hurt, right? So there's no reason any kitties should be blamed for doing something bad."

"But that girl-"

"Harry, Harry…" Fred interrupted, throwing an arm around the younger boy's shoulders. " This is very important, so listen and remember well: it only happened if you admit it happened."

"But she threw-"

"She who, Harrypits? I don't remember any she. Do you remember a she, brother?"

"Actually, George, I quite distinctly remember there not being a she at all. We were completely sheless, as far as I recall. There was certainly no one here that did anything worth mentioning. Isn't that how you remember it, Kitten?"

Angel looked back at Fred with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm just a kitty. I was thinking about balls of yarn. I didn't see anything."

Harry looked at the three in disbelief. They turned away from him, Fred trying and failing to whistle innocently. Seeing he'd get nothing useful from that quarter, he turned to King.

The walking disaster shook his head sadly. "I am afraid I must remain completely neutral in this matter, Harry. Failing to do so in the past has brought most unpleasant… consequences upon me."

"So we're all going to pretend that someone didn't just get nailed with a flying butter knife?" he demanded.

"What butter knife, Harry?" George asked.

Fred nodded. "You know, I think a lack of bacon has rendered him delirious."

"Well, that or the cranial trauma."

"Could be that too, yeah." Fred agreed. "Harry, how many fingers am I holding up?" He raised two fingers on one hand and one on the other. George leaned forward and put one of his hands between his brother's, throwing up his index finger and pinky.

"You guys…" Harry grumbled. "You know what? Forget it. I'm fine."

George stared at him suspiciously. "I don't know, Harrknee. You were just saying something crazy about butter knives being able to fly…"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. "What butter knife?" he asked, deadpan.

"I don't know why humans even use those. They're so stupid." Angel muttered. She used a nail to deftly slice a pancake in half. "It's so much easier to…"

She trailed off, staring suspiciously at her food. After a moment, she carefully picked her plate up. She inspected it carefully, then examined the half that had remained on the table. The poor flatware had been perfectly bisected in one neat cut.

"Um… I don't think my plate is working right…" she complained.

"Angel… please use the silverware."

The girl stared at Harry for a moment, then very pointedly picked up a fork. The implement almost fell apart, having brushed her nails. "Forks are hard." she complained.

"Ah. At last someone who understands my struggles!" King exclaimed. He tossed a mangled ball onto the table in disgust. It joined a small pile of similarly crumpled metal. "You can not possibly understand how vexing it is to be unable to eat like a normal person!"

"Huh. I thought they were putting extra hardening charms on those this year." Fred said, impressed.

"They were." George confirmed. "Flitwick's gonna tear his hair out."

"Yeah, I think that ship has sailed. Just man up and do it, King. You know you don't have a choice."

King scowled, then took a deep breath to steady himself. Looking at Lady, he said, "If you would, my dear."

The water elemental gleefully twisted her torso around in a manner only the boneless could manage. She quickly cut off a hunk of his pancakes and turned back around, holding the fork up to his mouth. King reached for the bit of food, but grabbed nothing but air as she quickly moved it away. The wizard gave her a dirty look and reached for it again, only to get the same result.

A long moment passed, but the wizard finally slumped in defeat. He reluctantly opened his mouth with a resigned look on his face. Lady's smug smile was perfectly clear as she deposited the food in his mouth.

"It's always nice to know who's in charge, I suppose. Personally, I'd rather be in a charge than out of it. Nothing good ever comes from being on the wrong end of that." announced a smooth voice.

"Would you stop it with that nonsense!" Hermione demanded as she stomped up to the table. She plopped into a seat with a huff and began piling food onto her plate. It was hard to tell whether she was trying to feed herself or punish the serving tray. "It's bad enough it took forever to leave the dorms. Was it really necessary to argue about the philosophical significance of clip-on ties?"

"Alas, to be half a thing is halfway to being nothing at all.." the Cheshire Cat said mournfully. "Such cruel masters you are, creating a thing that would not be unless it was but partly isn't."

"No! We are absolutely not going to start this again! And where are you?" the girl demanded.

"I am partly between life and death. I'm somewhere between a whisper and a sigh. I'm quite firmly between anger and sorrow." the voice said softly. "Also, I might be on your head."

Hermione's eyes slowly turned upwards. The Cheshire Cat grinned as it looked down at her.

"I don't suppose I could bother you for a bit of bacon."

Everyone at the table winced as Hermione dragged her fork across her plate, making a terrible shrieking sound.

"What? You don't like bacon? Everyone likes bacon."

"Except fascists." Fred and George pipe up together.

"Well, yes, of course. I thought that went without saying." Suddenly his eyes widened. "My dear child, surely you're not-"

"I'm not a fascist!" Hermione snapped. She snatched a piece of the meat off her plate and held it up for her familiar to take. ""Here. Now please, please, please just stop talking for a while!"

"Ah, truly the food of the gods. No matter the world, it is forever the favored feast for the finest feline food fanatics."

"Look, here's another piece. Why don't you go and play with Harry for a while. He likes crazy people." Hermione flipped another bit of bacon into the air.

"A man of discriminating tastes, indeed." the Cheshire Cat decided, obligingly drifting towards Harry. He paused as he passed over Angel, rolling onto his back and bending his neck to look down on her. "Why hello, sister. Imagine meeting such a fine example of the feline species here. I must say, if drinking milk makes one large, you must have eaten the entire cow."

Angel looked up with him in wonder. "You're floating…"

"A most astute observation. I'm the Cheshire Cat, large one. It would be strange if I didn't float."

"Does that mean it's real?" Harry asked. " _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_?"

The Cheshire Cat hummed thoughtfully. "Well, an Alice most certainly come to visit, as I recall. Became something of a sensation. Rattled all the wrong cages and rolled all the right heads."

"Then you knew her?"

"Oh, no. Not I. It was the _Cheshire Cat_ that made her acquaintance. _I'm_ the Cheshire Cat. I take no offense, though. It is an easy mistake to make."

Harry stared up at the grinning cat. "But… you just say that you're the Cheshire Cat."

"Why of course I am." the Cheshire Cat nodded. "Silly boy, we're all _the_ Cheshire Cat. To acknowledge otherwise would be to admit there were others on par with my excellence. It would be quite troubling if we weren't all the one of us."

"I… I think I understand why Hermione sent you over here." Harry muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Was it because she's a fascist?" Fred asked.

"I am not a fascist!"

George chuckled. "Gee, that's funny. I thought you weren't listening to us because we're crazy."

"Urg." Harry groaned. "I think this is giving me a headache."

"Weeeell, you did just hit your head." Angel pointed out. "Accidentally. With no help from anyone else."

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Multiple concussions in one day makes it easy to forget things like that." Harry shrugged. "So, does that mean you know Alice?"

"My boy, I know everyone worth knowing, and anyone I don't know isn't worth knowing at all. That said, I'm pleased to say I'm not acquainted with her. Such a boring child."

"Wait," Hermione suddenly said from the other side of King. "There's more of you!?"

"Silly girl, weren't you listening? All of I are we. Or, perhaps, all of we are I? I'm not sure…" the Cheshire Cat hummed thoughtfully. "It's so hard to keep track of oneself when there are many ones and they're not all selves."

"But, I've been calling you Cheshire!" Hermione gasped. "That's not _who_ you are, that's _what_ you are! I've been terrible to you!"

George slammed his hands down on the table and sprang to his feet. An offended look on his face, he pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "Hermoney, you're a horrible racist!"

Joining him, Fred shouted, "You're a dirty bigot!"

"You're a terrible person!"

"You're a filthy fascist!"  
" _I am not a fascist!_ " Hermione screamed, her voice filling the great hall.

"Woah. Geez, tone it down a notch," George said, a shocked look on his face.

"Yeah. You're making a scene," Fred pointed out. "You can't do that. That's our shtick."

Hermione drew a couple of deep breaths, then froze. Slowly turning her head, she discovered that half the students in the hall were staring at her. She sank back into her seat with a nervous giggle.

"A-anyway, you need a name," she practically whispered.

"Hmm… a name… a name… You know, I don't think there's another I that has a name. Yes, I think that would be quite marvelous indeed." the Cheshire Cat grinned happily. "After all, 'tis always nice for I to possess something that myself doesn't have."

"I'm.. just not going to think about that," the girl muttered. "How about Crookshanks?"

"Crookshanks?" Crookshanks purred. He rolled over in midair, examining his body. "Now that you mention it, my shanks are quite marvelously crook'd, aren't they?"

"Crookshanks?" Fred asked in a disbelieving voice. "What kind of-"

A quiet chime echoed through the hall.

" _Duck and cover!_ " Fred and George screamed simultaneously. Each of them grabbed one of Harry's shoulders and dragged him under the table.

"What are you-"

The Winged Apocalypse descended upon them. Dozens of them flooded in from every opening, their multitude of wings blotting out the sky. For a moment, all was chaos. The great hall belonged to the owls, and the lesser, wingless lifeforms could do naught but cower in fear.

"What the…?" Harry muttered, cautiously sticking his head out from under the table.

Shrugging, George resumed his seat. "Mail call," he explained. "You get used to it. Aww, man. Someone landed on my pancake…"

"Huh. I've got a couple of feathers in my eggs." Fred announced.

"Really? What kind?"

"White. Big ones."

"Lucky…"

"Poop." Hermione muttered. She was still sitting in her seat, a shellshocked look on her face. Her hair was even more of than usual. A dozen feather were sticking out of it, and there was an actual owl - not much bigger than a man's fist - stuck in her locks. The poor thing was madly flapping its wings in a desperate attempt to get free. "There's poop in my eggs. Owl poop. In my eggs."

"Poop in your eggs?" George asked with wide eyes. "Wow. Today must be your lucky day."

"Yeah, I've never even-"

" _Angel!_ " Harry suddenly snapped, cutting Fred off. "Don't!"

The girl instantly froze. She was atop the table, body slung low in a half crouch. In one hand she held a mid-sized owl. The poor thing was frozen in shock, a look of abject terror on its face. The fact that it was being held aloft, just inches from a open mouth full of viciously sharp teeth probably had something to do with it.

"You can't eat that!"

The girl gave her master a confused look. "I can't? Why? It's not a friend, it's a crunchy thing. I can tell."

"Owls are our friends too. You can't eat them." Harry declared. "Let it go."

Giving him a wounded look, she sighed. "Okay…" She released the owl, which proceeded to plummet straight down and land in Harry's plate. It laid there on a half-eaten piece of toast, staring up at him with unseeing eyes.

 _The things I've seen,_ they seemed to say.

"Uhh… birdie?" Angel said curiously. She crouched lower and gave it a few experimental pokes. When that didn't' elicit a response, she gave it a light flick with the back of her nail. "My Boy, I think the birdie broke."

"It'll… probably be okay." Harry said. He watched his familiar carefully as she picked the owl back up. "I think."

"Are you sure? He's not birdieing very well." Angel experimentally tossed the owl from hand to hand. She stared at it for a moment when it failed to respond, then tossed it high in the air. The owl's tail feathers brushed the ceiling, then the poor creature plummeted back down to land in the redhead's hands. "He's not birdieing at all. Birdies usually fly more."

George rubbed the back of his head. "Man. Maybe she did break it."

"I'd be pretty broke if that happened to me," Fred muttered.

His brother nodded in agreement.

"Oh! I know!" Angel suddenly cried, perking up. She held the owl up to her face and gave it a sunny smile. The bird quivered slightly. "Birdie just needs some help, don't you, birdie?"

"This can't end well." the twins said together.

Harry seemed to be of the same opinion. He reached towards his familiar with a cry of, "Angel, do-"

Twisting slightly, Angel stretched the arm holding the owl back. "Birdie, _fly!_ " she shouted. Her arm whipped forward as she hurled the owl with all the might she could muster.

There was a meaty splat.

For several seconds, the entire great hall went silent.

George, he face slightly pale, said, "Uh, they really should have made that window a little bigger, huh?"

"Or at least moved it a few inches to the left…" Fred agreed.

There was a horrible slurping sound as the former owl separated itself from the stone wall. A wet splat echoed through the silent hall as it landed. The silence was shattered a split-second by a horrified scream.

" _Why!?_ "

"Eww! Cho!"

A small flurry of panicked activity broke out around the Ravenclaw table. A black-haired girl fled the great hall, clawing at her head and retching, accompanied by several of her housemates.

"So.. Uh.. That was a thing that happened." Fred slowly said.

George nodded. "Yeah… sure was…"

"Can I eat birdie now?" Angel asked hopefully.

"No!" Harry, Fred and George shouted together.

"Aww."

George coughed pointedly into his hand. "So.. we should probably get our stories straight. Did anyone see an owl?"

"Nope, not a single one." Fred declared. He paused a second, the elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"Ow. No! No owls, okay!?"

" _Why!?_ " Hermione shouted.

Fred looked at her like she was an idiot. "Because painting the wall with a mail owl has got to be worth at least thirty house points. Duh."

"No!" she responded, slamming a hand down on the table and pointing at King. "Why!?"

The slim boy was still sitting neatly in his seat, patiently allowing his familiar to feed him. The area around him was completely undisturbed. There wasn't so much as a single feather in his food.

"Oh, that."

"Lady doesn't really like owls."

"One've them dropped a turd on her our first week."

"So she convinced them to stay away."

Happy to demonstrate, the elemental whipped her arm around. It lengthed became thinner as it sailed through the air, the word 'whipped' becoming much more literal. The thin tendril of water slammed into the table with a resounding crack. Harry and Hermione reflexively flinched away from the sharp sound.

"Yeah…"

"...they learned that one pretty quick."

"You might have to get your mail with a ten-foot pole, Harrharr."

"I'm thinking they're not gonna come anywhere near Kitten."

"Crookshanks!" Hermione snapped. "Eat an owl!"

Every other occupant of the table froze and - as one - turned to stare at the girl.

"What!?" she demanded. She raked a hand through her hair in an attempt to dislodge the feathers she'd acquired. Somehow she completely missed the struggling owl. "It's a completely reasonable course of action. Owls poop in my food. Horrific violence repels owls. It's a perfectly reasonable course of action."

Her friends continued to stare.

"Look. My hair is full of feathers. My robes are all messy and torn. My eyes are itchy and watering, so it appears I'm allergic to them. One even scratched my face! I don't want them anywhere near me, so Crookshanks has to eat one. Maybe two. It depends on how quick they catch on."

"Wow... You're kinda scary..." Angel muttered. She plopped down on her rear, not seeming to notice that she'd sat on George's plate. "I didn't know breakfast was so fun!"

"Is a cat sitting on your pancakes good luck or bad?" he whispered to his brother.

"I dunno if Breakfast Divination covers that…" Fred whispered back. After a moment of thought he asked, "Is the bacon under the left cheek or the right?"

George scratched his head and leaned forward. "Can't quite tell. Kitten, could you lean forward for a sec?"

Still eyeing Hermione, the familiar obliged. Her rear came up off George's plate.

"..."

"Well? Brother? Is the bacon on the left or the right?"

"Huh? What bacon?"

Fred belted his brother across the back of the head. "Moron. Next time _I'll_ look for the bacon."

"Yeah, I bet you will."

Harry shook his head. This was, without a doubt, a lot more interesting that breakfast at the Dursleys. Enjoyable, but really, really weird. Still, he was pretty sure he could get used to it.

Hopefully there'd be less flattened owls in the future.

* * *

A/N:

This one came out faster than the aftermath of an all-you-can-eat chalupa binge at Taco Bell. The next chapter probably won't take long, since I'm pretty much finished with it. As a side note, I've always found the idea of dozens of owls flying over your breakfast to be pretty gross.

...

Poor birdie.


	10. Traumatic Experiences

Something Familiar

Chapter 10: "Traumatic Experiences"

AKA: "Letting it all Hang Out"

* * *

Harry was so nervous that he was in serious danger of wetting himself. As it turned out, his very first class as a wizarding student was Transfiguration. The subject in itself seemed really interesting, but it came with a rather off-putting catch: it was taught by Professor McGonagall.

He had realized, of course, that she would be teaching one of his classes. That much was obvious, considering that she was a professor, but he'd really hoped to have some time to adjust before facing her. She'd been pretty mad the last time he'd seen her, after all.

As if that wasn't enough, there was another extremely worrying fact to face. He seemed to have misplaced his familiar.

Just after breakfast, Ri and Ru had appeared. Harry hadn't even really noted their absence up until that point. It was only after they'd shown up that he realized he hadn't seen Ru since about six in the morning. Once other students began coming down to the common room, she'd quickly disappeared. At the time he'd assumed she was just going to rejoin her sister and their wizards.

The pair had quickly approached Angel and had a… talk?

Silly My Boy, of course cute foxies can talk. They talk just as good as kitties. We're just smart enough that we don't have to use all those silly words.

Anyway, the three had communicated somehow. Then he'd turned his back for just a moment and the trio had vanished.

The twins insisted that it wasn't really anything to worry about. Familiars pretty much ran rampant in the castle during the day. They all loved to be with their masters, but most of them found classes to be painfully boring. Heck, even a lot of the masters found the classes to be boring, but they were at least getting something out of it.

Dogs don't have much use for Transfiguration.

Speaking of which, the door to the classroom had just opened all on its own. Despite all he'd seen so far, Harry found this to be absolutely fascinating. It seemed a bit silly, considering that almost every muggle supermarket had doors that did the same, but he couldn't help it.

As they filed into the classroom, Hermione slid her way up to the side. "Hey. Have you seen Neville?"

Thinking on it, Harry realized he hadn't. In fact, the last time he'd seen the other boy, he'd been…

Oh.

Trying desperately to look Hermione in the eye (and not stare at the owl now taking a nap in her hair) he answered, "Uh… I think he might be in the dorm still."

"What!?" the girl exclaimed. The sudden noise woke up the owl. It looked around wildly, wide eyes searching for a threat. "How could he still be in the dorms? What is he thinking?"

"He was kind of tied up last time I saw him." Harry explained. He lasted about three seconds before breaking out into giggles.

Hermione eyed him like he was an idiot. "I don't care how busy he was, there's no way he should be late for our first class. That's so disrespectful!"

"No, I mean he was-"

He was cut off as the witch grabbed his arm and dragged him back out into the hall. "That… big cat…" she stuttered with wide eyes.

Harry pushed past her and took a quick look around the classroom. There was, indeed, a big cat. There was two of them, in fact, and they were perfectly identical. They were lying calmly in the middle of the floor, watching the students file in with interest.

"Oh. Don't worry. That's the professor's familiar. Well, one of them is. Huh. Can a person have two familiars?" he asked curiously.

Hermione slowly slipped into the room, carefully edging her way along the wall and staring at the cats. "I- I don't think so," she stammered. "C- come on, let's just sit down."

"Come on. There was a wolf - an actual wolf - sleeping under the table ten feet from your feet at breakfast. Don't you think you're acting a little silly?" Harry asked. "It's just a familiar."

"I had a traumatic experience, okay?"

"A traumatic experience?"

"Yes!"

"With a cougar?"

"Yes!"

"Didn't… didn't you say you live in London?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she huffed and dropped into a chair. "It's not that unusual. Some poor garbage man was attacked by a boa constrictor recently."

Harry paled. "Uh… what?"

"A boa constrictor. You know, a really big snake?" Hermione shook her head. "Seriously, a Brazilian boa constrictor escaped from a zoo. How does that even happen? The poor man was just doing his job and it tried to eat him. He's probably scarred for life. It just happened a couple of weeks ago. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

"Err… right. Weird," Harry giggled nervously. "That's… a weird thing to have happen. I know nothing about something so weird. It would be weird if I did, right?"

"Harry, you used the word 'weird' four times. And you're acting awfully, well, weird." Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You didn't have any-"

There was a faint murmuring as the students in the front rows stirred. One of the cats had climbed to its feet and was slinking around the desk. This, coincidentally, revealed that the two were not identical, after all.

The cat still snoozing on the floor, its front right paw was made of metal.

There were several startled gasps as the other cat suddenly leapt up onto the desk. Those gasps became screams as the feline lunged forward through the air. The students sitting in front frantically raised their books and bags in what was probably a futile effort to defend themselves, but it proved unnecessary.

In mid-air, the cat turned into a witch.

"We have already met briefly, but allow me to introduce myself." McGonagall declared, hiding a faint smirk. She really shouldn't enjoy doing that as much as she did. "I am Professor McGonagall. This is my familiar, Ash. We will be teaching you Transfiguration."

The class stared at her in stunned silence, many of them still slightly shaken.

"Please allow me to get one question out of the way immediately, for I have been asked this at least once a year for the past twenty years."

"In our youth, Ash and I had the misfortune of encountering an extremely nasty dark creature. It took our friends. Then it came for us. It got into Ash's paw and it went bad. So, I had to lop it off." McGonagall shook her head. "It was a most unpleasant experience, but one I do not regret. Without it, I would not be who I am today."

"Now. Transfiguration. What you have just witness was a very advanced form of the art: the animagus transformation. If you are lucky, you will someday be able to perform it yourself." Snatching a book off her desk she held it high. The cover read, A Beginner's' Guide to Transfiguration, by Emetic Switch.

"I trust you have all brought your textbooks?" McGonagall asked. There was a general murmur of assent. "Excellent. Please form a line and make your way to the front of the class. Be sure to bring your books."

Somewhat confused, the class complied. One at a time the made their way up to the professor's' desk. As each arrived, she would instruct them to add their books to a growing stack. Student after student returned to their seats, bookless and befuddled.

"That's everyone, then? Excellent." She gave them smile, whipped her wand around and said, "Incendio!"

Hermione screamed as the books became a pillar of flame. Harry had to physically restrain her from leaping over the desk and throwing herself into the pile of burning literature.

"The books you have been given are useless." McGonagall snapped. "No, they are worse than useless. They are complete and utter trash! I don't know who decided that transfiguring a turtle into a teacup would adequately teach the subject, but they ought to be turned into a stone and dropped into the ocean."

"Transfiguration is not about relying on a spell to create a hedgehog. It is about using the force of your mind to bend matter to your will," she declared. "Observe."

Her wand came down on her desk..

"Mutatio," she intoned. There was a crackle as the wood surface tore itself apart and became a steel cube.

"Mutatio." The cube ripped apart and became a glass flower.

"Mutatio." A stone sculpture of an owl replace the flower.

"Mutatio." The desktop was a desktop again.

"The Change Spell is one of the most advanced forms of Transfiguration. It allows your magic to run free without artificial restraints, fettered only by the force of your will. With it, you can create anything, so long as you can control it," she declared. "I will not be teaching the watered-down trash the the Board of Governors calls Transfiguration. Here you will be learning the actually theory of the art: how and why it works."

"B-but professor. You can't do that!" Hermione protested. "I mean… the curriculum... What about our OWLs?"

"This is my class, Ms. Granger. I think you will find I can, for the most part, do whatever I want." Professor McGonagall gave a small smile. "If you have a complaint, feel free to address it to the Board. Be warned, however, that they like to pretend my little rebellion does not exist. They are loath to change things or admit they have erred, but as OWL and NEWT scores have improved drastically during my tenure, they have no grounds to complain about how I go about my business."

"But-"

"There is a trunk by the far window," McGonagall overrode her."In it you will find a new text and a glass sphere for each of you. You will learn the theory on pages 1 - 15, and you will use the spell on page 16 to cloud your glass. When you have-"

The classroom door slammed open. Neville stood panting on the threshold. He looked around the classroom and nervously tugged at the thorned vine around his neck.

"I- I'm late, aren't I?" he asked.

"Yes. Quite." McGonagall answered. "I hope you have a good excuse, Mr. Longbottom. I would hate to be forced to take points off my own house."

The pudgy boy sighed. "My familiar drugged me."

The announcement was met with silence.

Not.

"Yes, you did!" Neville insisted.

Not.

"Look, it's the same thing, Isn't it?"

Not!

The wizard groaned. "Fine. Have it your way. She didn't drug me, she poisoned me. Apparently it's different."

Better, came the smug image.

"Very well. I suppose that is an acceptable excuse, but do not let it happen again," McGonagall said sternly. "And Mr. Longbottom? Please hold your text aloft."

Both relieved and confused, Neville dug into his bag and withdrew his book

"Punctum."

Shreds of paper drifted down around him. A shocked expression on his face, Neville lowered his arm. His text was now sporting an enormous hole, nearly wide enough to tear the poor thing in half.

"Uh…"

"Please take a seat with Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger. They will help you get up to speed."

"Eheheh…" Neville giggled nervously. "R- right."

* * *

Charms turned out to be a lot less interesting than Transfiguration had been. Harry was a little disappointed, but he supposed not every class could involve transforming professors and pillars of flame. Professor McGonagall's class had been quite spectacular, and proved to be a tough act to follow.

Prof. Flitwick was a little man, small enough that he couldn't see over his own desk without the aid of a pile of books. Harry couldn't help but wonder why someone didn't give him a shorter desk, or at least a stool. Then again, these were the same people that swerving a train around a mountain was a good solution to the 'impeding rock' problem.

When he'd called Harry's name, he actually gotten so excited that he'd fallen off his books and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. It was a bit upsetting to come to the realization that he'd have to put up with that sort of behavior from his teachers, of all people.

The small man proved to be an effective teacher, at least. His seeming boundless energy work in his favor there. He'd flit from student to student, correcting wand movements and pronunciations. He bounced around so much that it was almost like he was under the effects of his own Levitation spell.

Overall, Harry had to admit he was a bit happy when the class was over. Making a feather fly around was interesting, but it lacked the sheer impressiveness of his head of house's class. Being the second in class to cloud his glass -right after Hermione - had been the highlight of his day.

She hadn't seemed to notice when her large, brown feather had become a smaller, snow-white one. During one of her failed attempts at the Levitation Charm, her feather had drifted under a desk. Without missing a beat, her head-owl had replaced it with one of its own. It had looked quite pleased with itself as Hermione had continued practicing the spell without pause.

Though he was disappointed by Charms, Harry did have high hopes for Potions. He'd always enjoyed cooking, despite the fact that the Dursleys had made it hell. What he'd read of his text suggested that the two were similar indeed. Hopefully some of his experience would carry over, because it idea of mixing substances that could do so many wonderful things appealed to him greatly.

Lunch passed quickly and, surprisingly, quietly. The twins seemed to be off doing whatever it was the twins did, as they never bothered to show up. Consequently, the fox sisters were also nowhere to be seen. Even Angel was still absent, Harry having seen neither hide nor hair of her since she'd disappeared earlier.

Despite King's further assurances that it was fine, Harry was still a bit worried. He wasn't concerned for her safety, since he was assured she wasn't likely to leave the castle. How dangerous could Hogwarts be?

No, what worried him was the fact that he'd last seen her in the company of the foxes. Angel didn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed - not that he'd ever say that aloud - and the Weasley familiars couldn't be a good influence. Who knows what sorts of things they might get up to…

With a sigh, Harry finished his lunch, gathered his things and prepared to go to Potions. Hopefully it would meet his expectations.

* * *

A pair of bricks slid aside with a barely audible scraping noise. The stones quietly came to a stop, framing a newly-revealed hole in the wall. It was a small hole, barely large enough to fit a softball. Silver eyes shone in the darkness, looking out into the hall with something close to hatred.

Here. Look.

Animal communication was a funny thing. It wasn't anywhere near "speech" as humans understood it. It was more a combination of subtle movements, quite noises and scent. It was excellent for communicating simple ideas but, as most animals were limited to fairly simple thoughts, fell a bit short when it came to complex concepts. Luckily, most day-to-day conversations didn't have much in the way of complexity.

A small form pushed up next to her. It was a good thing foxes were right at home in cramped tunnels, because it was a tight fit. The kitten's fur tickled her nose as it stuck its head out into the hall. Miraculously, the fox managed to suppress a sneeze..

There, Ru said. Enemy.

Angel curiously scanned the hall. As far as she could see, there was nothing but a few suits of armor, some empty paintings and a cat.

The cat was little more than skin and bones, its thin frame covered with unkempt, gray fur. It had oddly large eyes. They almost seemed to be bulging out of its head, and looked like they might fall out at any moment. She was too busy cleaning her head to notice them, for all the good it did her.

Painting?

Behind them, Ri sighed. Not painting.

Ru started to nod in agreement, but then paused. She looked up and down carefully. There were six paintings visible along the hallway. Out of all six, not a single person was visible. It seemed everyone had taken a lunch break.

Not painting, she said after a moment. Cat.

The kitten looked at her in horror. Clearly agitated, she forcefully protested, Cat!

Traitor. Ri responded.

Finds people. Brings trouble. Ru added.

Not us. Human's pet. Just cat.

Not us? Angel asked, carefully studying the cat. Not friend. Crunch traitor?

Ru glanced back at her sister. It wasn't like they'd never considered it before. The cat was a near-constant annoyance. She wasn't a familiar and didn't play fair like they did. The few times they'd tried to talk to her, she'd brushed them off. There was just no reasoning with the mangy wench, and she clearly had no intention to get along like everyone else.

Foxes were a predatory species. It wasn't a surprise the idea had crossed their minds. It had been very tempting at times and, because the cat wasn't a familiar, they felt no compulsion to live and let live.

Despite that, it had taken them a year of constant irritation before the thought had come up. Even then it had been treated as more of a joke than an actual option. After all, that was a rather unpleasant plan, even as a last resort.

Apparently, for their new friend - the adorable ball of fluff - it was the first thing that came to mind. Judging by the way her body was tensing and her claws were digging into the stone, she was more than ready to follow through.

Don't crunch, Ru quickly said. Big trouble.

Angel's body relaxed. She gave an annoyed huff. Don't crunch. Don't crunch. Always don't.

Empty head. One thought, Ri said. It was something along the lines of the animal equivalent for a groan.

Ru shrugged. Just cat. Little kitty.

Not smart. Not fault, Ri sighed.

Angel glared. Right here. Hear you.

Wiggling around in the narrow tunnel, Ru managed to turn towards Angel. She raised a tiny paw and patted the cat on the head. Good kitty. Smart kitty.

Foxies yummy? Angel asked. Curious now.

Ru jerked her paw back. ...pretty kitty?

...probably yucky.

Forest outside. Ri offered. Crunchy things.

Perking up, Ru added, Squirrels. Same size. Fun.

Where? Angel asked eagerly.

Later. Not important. Other things.

Stupid ghost. Sticky stairs. Food place.

Toilet ghost. Big den. Owl place. Not food!

Angel huffed. I know. Owls friends. Yummy friends.

Good enough. Ri muttered. She smacked Angel's tail and darted back into the tunnel. This way. Follow. Don't wander.

Grumbling to herself, Angel ran after the fox. Ru followed close on her tail, intent on making sure she didn't lag behind or wander off.

The area inside Hogwarts' walls was a bizarre place. Whoever had made the tunnels had been quite powerful and more than a little mad.

Despite the fact that many of the walls were only a foot thick, some of the tunnels they housed were large enough to fit a particularly large dog. There was even one tunnel that was big enough for a horse to pass through. It ran straight from the stables to the fourth stall in the second-floor ladies' room. No one really knew why, but that was probably because no one really wanted to ask about it.

For the most part, the familiar highway was a confusing mess of tunnels, nooks and peepholes in all shapes and sizes. They came and went in whatever directions they felt like, and quite often didn't seem to correspond to any one location in particular. One exit might open under a suit of armor on the first floor, while another fifty feet down the tunnel could open under Snape's desk in the dungeons. They came together in ways they shouldn't and didn't in ways they should.

Despite that, navigating the untold miles of tunnels was normally surprisingly easy. As long as they kept a clear picture of where they were going, familiars could quickly reach their destination. They could navigate the castle in a fraction of the time it took a human to, turning up in odd places or meeting their master at his destination before he even knew where he was going.

Most of the time, anyway. As with anything involving magic, there was the occasional hiccup. A familiar might get distracted - or worse, curious - and take a wrong turn. If they were unlucky, they'd end up in the Nowhere. It was a twisting maze of tunnels that didn't seem to correspond to anywhere, an empty place with no exits to be found. Over the years, many of these bad turns had been marked with the familiar equivalent of, "Stay the hell away!".

Oddly, there always seemed to be plenty of unmarked passages for the unwary to wander down.

When a familiar ended up in the Nowhere, one of three things could happen:

If they were smart, they sat down and waited.

If they were dumb and lucky, the found their own way out.

If they were dumb and unlucky, they wandered in deeper. This was bad, as it made it that much harder to find them.

In the first month alone, at least a dozen search and rescue operations were conducted to recover newly-summoned familiars. They usually went pretty smoothly, as long as there was someone or something reasonably smart to coordinate them. It was routine enough that most witches and wizards had no idea what was happening in the walls and beneath their feet. Familiars came and went all the time; who'd even notice if their dog was gone for a few hours.

Normally, once a missing animal was found, their rescuer had no trouble finding their way back out. It was just one of the odd quirks of the Nowhere. Like many things, however, this rule was not set in stone.

In 1962, three-quarters of Hogwart's familiar population had vanished. The situation had only been resolved when the kneazle running the operation, Senior el Gato the Third, had sent in rescuers to rescue the rescuers to rescue the rescued rescuers that had been rescued by the rescuers searching for the rescuers. The real kick in the pants had been the fact that Slinky the Snake, the original lost familiar, had been found unharmed fifteen minutes into what had become a three-day operation.

There was also the curious case of Tiny the Saint Bernard in 1971. Tiny had gone missing for a week, much to the dismay of his wizard. The large dog had actually been found the first day, but the nook he'd been discovered in had no connected tunnels that were large enough for him to pass through. The other familiars had still been working on a way to get him out when he'd casually strolled into the Ravenclaw common room and laid down for a nap.

No one really knew what had happened there. Even the dog himself hadn't been much help. He was a wonderful dog that everyone loved, but he was about as sharp as a sledgehammer. All he'd had to say on the subject was, Out now.

That was exactly the sort of thing the foxes were trying to prevent. Their new friend seemed like fun, but she didn't have a lot going on in her head. The more familiar she was with with the castle and tunnels, the less likely it was that they'd have to haul her out of the Nowhere. They'd be run ragged the next few weeks anyway. They didn't need the extra stress of the hapless victim being one of their friends.

Besides, it looked like her boy was going to be spending quite a bit of time with their minions. It would be helpful if she knew what to look out for and who could be trouble.

And who not to crunch. That was probably important, too.

* * *

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. His eyes were wide with fear. His distress was readily apparent, considering he was practically shaking.

"You are here to learn the subtle…"

He tried to focus on the lecture. He really did. Unfortunately, it proved impossible in his current, distraught state. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't focus. Tearing his attention away from the far corner of the classroom was impossible.

Half-hidden in the darkness, a hole the size of a basket ball had opened up by the roof. It probably would have gone completely unseen, had he not been sitting in the exact right spot. A pair of slitted, amber eyes gazed out into the classroom, wide with wonder. Harry tried to slow his heart as the eyes followed the Potions Professor around the room.

More accurately, they were following a loose thread hanging from his left shoulder.

Harry tried to shake his head subtly. The kitten, completely distracted by the tiny bit of string, failed to notice. So, desperately, he tried to mouth, "Don't do it!"

"Potter!" Snape snapped, whirling around. The kitten twitched as the thread whirled with him. "Is there a problem?"

"No sir!" He quickly answered, shaking his head. It was more for his familiar than the professor. Luckily, she seemed to have calmed down now that Snape wasn't dramatically whirling around the room.

"Good. Do not become a problem. I have no doubt the subtleties of potion making will be lost on you, but it is my unfortunate duty to teach you along with the rest of these… dunderheads. No matter how many idiots fawn over you, you will receive no special treatment from me," the professor growled, leaning across Harry's desk to glare at him.

Harry leaned back in fear.

The professor was blocking his view of the corner. No matter how hard he tried to lean back, he couldn't get the right angle to see it. He couldn't tell if she was still up there. With the look she'd had on her face, she might decide to strike at any moment.

What was the penalty for letting your familiar assault a professor? It couldn't be good, that's for sure. It was only the first day of classes, and he was about to get in serious trouble. He'd lose house points, and his housemates would hate him. They might even expel him and snap his wand!

Lips twisting into a smirk, Snape stared at the boy. The look of abject terror he wore was absolutely wonderful. With his face, it was almost like James himself was cowering before him. The only thing ruining it was those eyes…

Snape suddenly straightened and snapped, "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape glared at her, eyes lingering on the owl tangled in her hair. Clearly bored by these silly human classes, It had been taking another nap. The sudden movement had disturbed it, however, and now it was looking around in obvious confusion.

Magical or muggle, he would never understand these idiotic fashions. Owl hair ornaments… that was almost as absurd as that living newt necklace Lily had loved. He had no idea what it took to make a dozen newts cling to each other, but it certainly wasn't worth the effort.

Deliberately turning his gaze back to Harry, he ground out, "Well?"

Harry stared and squeaked. He hadn't even heard the question, to be honest. He'd been far too busy staring at the corner to listen. The blank corner, completely devoid of both cat and tunnel.

"W-what?"

"Hmmm… Clearly you're even more worthless than I thought. Let's try another, simpler question. Maybe your feeble mind can handle it. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"The name, sir. They're the same plant." Harry said unsteadily. He'd quickly decided that not knowing where his familiar was hiding was even worse than watching her contemplate attacking his teacher.

Still, it seemed like being suffocated awake at four in the morning could come in handy.

Snape stared at him for a minute. "So, you are not a complete moron, after all. Or… perhaps one of your little friends helped you." His eyes narrowed as he glared at Hermione.

"What? N-no, I-"

"Quiet!" he ordered.

The small owl gave him a dirty look as Hermione slumped back in her seat.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Eyes still scanning the classroom, Harry pointed towards the materials cabinet.

"Do you think this is amusing, Potter?" Snape demanded.

"No sir. I just know that if I wanted a bezoar, I'd want it fast. And since there's no goats in the classroom…" And no cats, for that matter…

Snape stared at him for a long time. It probably would have been unnerving, if he was paying any attention to it. But he was, once again, busy tr-

Did something just move?

Finally, Snape spoke. "Potter is… correct." he said, as if the words were the most disgusting thing he'd ever tasted. "Any competent brewer will have at least one bezoar on hand. Given that I am expected to teach idiots, I keep several. I will most likely need more before the month is out.

"As for the question our 'savior' was too stupid to understand, asphodel and wormwood are the primary components of a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A single dose is powerful enough to put a man to sleep for years. Should any of you become curious about the flavor, I will happily prepare you a dose.

"For your cheek, Potter, I will be taking five po-"

The loud crash of shattering glass filled the room. As one, the class turned their attention to the materials cabinet. The door was hanging half open. There was a small puddle on the floor, surrounded by jagged pieces of broken glass.

"What the-"

Something moved in the cabinet. Harry just barely caught it. Within the shadows at the back of a shelf, something shifted. A patch of black in the darkness, its presence given away by a momentary flash of white.

There was a scraping sound, then another glass flask plummeted to the floor. It landed square in the middle of the puddle, shattering and spilling its contents.

There was something like a flameless explosion. Foul-tasting smoke erupted outwards, filling the room. A vile scent invaded his nose and burned his eyes. Between the smoke and his tears, it was nearly impossible to see.

Something slammed hard into the back of Snape's knee. That, coupled with a blow to the chest, was enough to drive him to the floor and knocked the wind out of him. He was still trying to gasp for breath when something wet splashed across his face, causing him to cough and sputter.

Before he could recover from that, something thick and slimy hit him with a vile splat. It was like someone had dropped a vat of lukewarm custard on him. It burned slightly, and caused a bizarre pins-and-needles feeling all across his body.

A feather-light touch whipped across his flesh. It left vaguely tingling strokes across his face and chest.

By the time Snape managed to climb to his feet, the smoke was beginning to clear. He spun around, enraged, eager to punish the culprits or anyone else that was handy. Potter would do. He opened his mouth, ready to scream, "One hundred points from Gryffindor!", but something made him pause.

The classroom was dead silent. Twenty-odd first-years were staring at him, mouths hanging open in horror.

Snape calmly assessed the situation.

His hair was a lovely shade of neon pink. It was standing straight on end, forming a perfect mohawk. Someone had even taken the time to lovingly attach dangling metal tags - normally used for labeling supplies - to the end of each spike.

Some sort of thick gel covered his entire body. It clung to his flesh everywhere, forming a layer a half-inch thick across every bit of skin. It was ever so slightly opaque, and wobbled oddly every time he moved. It also made disgusting slurping noises every time he pulled his arms away from his body. Given that there was a fair amount covering his lips, Snape could confidently say it tasted like half-spoiled mangos.

The gel was almost a good thing, though, because it was the only thing he was wearing. At some point during the scuffle, he seemed to have lost his robes. Professor Snape was standing buck-naked in front of a class of eleven-year-olds, and the gel wasn't nearly opaque enough for comfort.

His assailants had also taken the time to go crazy with a marker. They'd given him an evil mustache and goatee. His forehead had been defaced with the phrase, "I'm a tool.", and the area around his eyes had been colored in to make it look like he was wearing extremely dark mascara.

The elephant was the worse part. The animal would have been a rather nice piece of art, had it not been drawn on his lower abs. And the trunk…

Somewhere in the room, someone choked out, "Damn…" It was accompanied by the distinct sound of someone forcing a mouthful of vomit back down.

There was as snort.

Harry and Hermione turned to look at Neville with horrified eyes.

He snorted again and then, seeing them staring at him, completely lost it. The normally quiet boy started laughing hysterically.

"I- I'm sorry… It- it isn't m- me!" he managed to get out. "W- would you s- stop it! You're go- going to get us in trouble!"

This seemed to have opposite the intended effect. The poor boy started laughing even harder, tears pouring down his cheeks. The entire rest of the class, Snape included, could only look on in shock.

"Fine! F- fine! I'll te- tell him! We're scre- in t- trouble anyway!" he gasped. "O- orchid says th- that's one of the s- smallest wands she's e- ever seen!"

Nevermind a pin, you could have heard a speck of dust land. Some of the students may not have quite understood what Neville said, but they all knew it wasn't good.

Seeing the look on Snape's face, Neville started laughing even harder. He wasn't even sure whether it was him or Orchid now. Either way, it was almost painful at this point.

"She s- says never mind a m- meal, you wouldn't e- even be a snack."

Snape twitched. He ground his teeth so hard it hurt. Someone was going to pay, starting right now. "Two hundred points from Gryffindor, and another five for every word you've said," he growled.

"S'okay. Th- that's the only w- way you'll ever see f- five, anyway."

Suddenly, Neville stopped laughing. He froze, a slightly green look on his face.

"Uh… a- actually, I guess there's another way you could get five…" he whispered in horror. "Could someone hit me? Really hard? In the head? I… suddenly I think I want to forget the last thirty seconds really badly."

His hopeful gaze swept the classroom.

"Please?"

* * *

In an abandoned classroom, deep in an unused part of the castle, two foxes were about to die.

At least, that's what it looked like to Angel. The girl was sitting on the cold, stone floor with a confused look on her face and something strongly resembling a muggle sharpie held in her mouth. Before her, her two new friends were rolling around in the floor, gasping for breath and making little yipping noises. They'd been doing this for five straight minutes now, and she was starting to get worried.

Shaking her head, she dropped the marker into her hand. Having the slime-covered tip that near her mouth was starting to worry her. Aside from anything else it might do to her, the smell it gave off suggested that it wouldn't taste good.

The slime she'd gotten on her hands was stubbornly clinging, ignoring her efforts to wipe it off on the floor. Scraping it off with a nail had yielded slightly better results, but then she just ended up with more on one hand than the other.

Wait! Maybe if she…

Ri, still breathing heavily, watched as the redhead scraped one hand clean for the seventeenth time. Well, the seventeenth time since she'd calmed down enough to pay attention For all she knew, it was a lot more than that. She hadn't really been in any condition to count. Even now, she was on the verge of breaking down again. The only way she could maintain her composure was by - through sheer force of will - suppress all thoughts of Snape.

Her sister was still completely useless, flopping around on the floor like she was being electrocuted. Just looking at her made Ri want to break out in hysterical laughter again.

Instead, she decided to focus on Angel. The cat wasn't likely to make her have another giggle fit, at least. It would also be pretty interesting to see how many times she tried to scrape herself clean before finally-

Stop! Ri snapped.

Angel froze, one hand held just millimeters away from her halter top.

Don't touch, the fox ordered. Eats cloth.

Angel paused for a moment, a pensive look on her face. Suddenly, it was replaced by an expression of realization and horror. She jerked her slime-covered hand away from her body.

"Umm… I don't have anymore clothes, so that'd probably be bad, right?" she asked.

Ri nodded.

"Stupid humans. Why are they so so silly about being all covered? Is it because they don't have pretty fur like we do?"

Probably, agreed Ri. Steal fur. Wear it.

"I guess they're just jealous. They get all embarrassed because they're not pretty like us," Angel decided. "Is that why you took the gross man's clothes? To make him embarrassed?"

Embarrassed? Not Embarrassed. Need word. New word. Ru declared, finally getting some control over herself.

Clothes accident. Wanted dye. Worked wrong. Got naked. Ri tilted her head. Good accident. Minions happy.

Good reaction. Draw elephant.

"Oh, I know I was just supposed to draw on his face, but… A guy I knew had a tattoo. Everyone thought it was really funny for some reason, so…"

Tattooed? Ri asked incredulously.

"He had lots and lots to drink. He went to sleep, and his friends did it then."

Interesting friends… Ru declared. Their minions liked a good prank and all, but they'd never take something that far. Well, probably not, anyway. Strange company.

"Oh, no. They weren't my friends. They were just kinda… people I knew? All cuttens need pets. They feed us and tell us we're pretty. It's not like they're really our friends, though…." Angel muttered. Her normal exuberance faded as she spoke, replaced by a uncharacteristically sad tone.

The twins traded a look.

Have friends.

Have us.

Angel stared at them for several seconds. Just when they were starting to become uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze, she suddenly lunged forward. Both foxes were swept up into an enthusiastic hug.

No!

Slime!

Making a surprised sound, Angel quickly held her furry friends out at arm's length. A thorough inspection revealed that they were, in fact, covered with slime. Luckily, it didn't seem to have any effect on fur.

"Oh no! I'm sorry! I forgot…" she trailed off, frowning. What the heck was that weird tingling?

Stupid kitty… Ru huffed.

Ri, on the other hand, giggled. Naked kitty.

"What do-" Angel froze mid-sentence, eyes fixed on her chest in horror.

Now that she thought about it, she could hear a slight sizzling noise. Well, at least she knew what that tingling was. It was definitely being caused by the slowly expanding hole in her top. The edges were glowing a nasty shade of green, tiny wisps of smoke floating up as whatever the heck that slime was chewed through the cloth.

"Oh no!"

Before she could even think about doing something, the hole had expanded to the point where only a few thin strips of cloth where holding the top together. At that point, the potion's job was done. Physics won the day, and a significant portion of Angel's body mass released itself from its restraints.

Damn, the foxes said in unison.

* * *

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"Why in the world are you asking me?"

The trio could have gone to the greenhouses through the castle, but they'd decided to take the path leading around the outside of the castle instead. Well, Harry and Hermione had decided that, at least. Poor Neville wasn't really in any condition to do any deciding. That was half the reason they'd decided on this route.

Shortly after his momentary trauma, he'd began laughing again. He'd continued to giggle the whole time Snape was gone. Once the rage had subsided a bit, the professor had realized that standing nude in front of a bunch of first-years was probably a bad idea. It took far longer to remove the slime than he had expected, which resulted in him not returning until the last ten minutes of class.

Upon seeing Snape, Neville immediately started laughing like a madman again. This, of course, cost his house more points. For some reason, that just made him laugh harder. This process repeated itself several times, only ending when class was finally over.

The giggles didn't subside, even once they were out of the presence of their teacher. Harry and Hermione had really been hoping a little fresh air would help. It didn't.

"Neville, try to keep up, okay?" Harry called to the boy trailing along behind them.

"Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if this is a school or an asylum. Everyone here is mad!" Hermione snapped. Something about those words bothered her. She frowned and went back over what she'd said. Something about everyone being mad… "Oh! Harry, Have you seen Crookshanks? I haven't seen him since breakfast!"

* * *

"Come now, my miniscule friend. I'm certain you'd enjoy it."

The hedgehog shook its head.

"But with your stature and skill, you're a shoo-in to win. Imagine the taste of victory! Triumph after triumph! You'd be on a roll. Or, perhaps, the roll would be on you. Such things confuse me terribly."

It shook its head even harder.

"Oh dear. Is your mind quite made up? A solid fortress of thought, serving only to deny my paltry request?"

This time it nodded enthusiastically.

Crookshanks sighed. "Alas. It was such a small favor, from such a small friend. Perhaps next time? It will be quite a ball."

The hedgehog sighed in relief and shook its head again.

"Very well. I'm not sure where I'd get a flamingo at this time of day, anyway."

* * *

"I wouldn't worry too much. Fred and George say it happens all the time. You saw all the dogs and cats and birds and lizards and stuff in the halls. I even saw a dog riding a rhino. I think there might have been a frog riding the dog. I don't know. I was really busy getting out of the way," Harry said.

In honesty, he was being more than a little hypocritical. He didn't know for sure, but he was about 96.2% certain Angel had been involved in what happened to Snape. If that was the kind of stuff they got up to, there was indeed a reason to be concerned.

"Yes, I saw that. And there was a frog." .Hermione confirmed. "It was sitting on the dog's head. And, honestly, what kind of a name is Rocksteady for a rhino?"

Neville giggled. "Rhino… rhino… Teacher, rhino the answer!" he suddenly shouted. He immediately broke down in a fit of laughter.

"Is it just me, or is he getting worse?" Harry asked. He placed a hand on Neville's shoulder and began gently guiding him down the path.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. He seemed fine for a minute when he was talking about getting a five-inch wand."

Neville stopped short, causing Harry to stumble as he was pulled to a stop. All color drained from his face, leaving him an ashen grey. He trembled slightly as he whispered, "Make it go away. Make it go away," over and over.

"Why'd you do that !?" Harry demanded.

"What? I was supposed to know that was going to happen?" Hermione protested. "Besides, he's not laughing, is he?"

"I'm pretty sure this isn't better…" Harry sighed. He grabbed Neville's shoulders and forcibly turned him. Looking his friend straight in the eye, he said, "Don't worry Neville. Owl take care of you."

Neville stared.

Harry lifted his arms and flapped them slightly. "Hoo, hoo?"

For several seconds, Neville continued to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Hoo?"

The traumatized boy snorted, then started giggling. Within seconds he was back to hysterical laughter.

"Really, Harry? That was terrible." Hermione sighed. "At least try to have some standards."

Harry giggled. "Hey, this is about Neville, not me. If he keeps this up, he's gonna be pretty horse tomorrow."

Hermione groaned. She glanced at Neville, who was laughing even harder now, then turned back to glare at Harry. She gave him a stern frown as she said, "If you have time to think of stupid puns, you otter be thinking of a way to fix this."

Both Harry and Neville stared at Hermione in disbelief. Neville even stopped laughing for a moment. Then Neville started laughing again, and this time he wasn't alone.

"What is wrong with you!?" Hermione demanded.

"Y- you said, 'otter be thinking'. Otter!" Harry managed to get out between laugh.

He received a nasty glare. "I most certainly did not!"

"It- it doesn't m- matter. Either way, I d- don't think I have the r- right koala-fications to help."

"Would you please stop it!?"

Harry stared at her, face slowly turning red as he tried to hold in the giggles. In a very serious voice, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't be kitten around."

It took all the effort she could muster to not smack the both of them. What in the world was wrong with Harry? He'd been so worried about Neville a moment ago, and now he was acting like it was a joke. Was stupidity suddenly contagious?

Hermione froze. She looked back, judging the distance between her and the boys. There was about ten feet separating them. But Harry, of course, was standing right next to Neville.

"Harry, would you come here for a moment?"

Harry glanced at her, tears running down his face. "W- why?"

The smile he received was sickeningly sweet. "Because if you don't, I'll tell Angel you'd really love it if she laid in your lap and let you rub her stomach.

"Why would-"

"As a human." Hermione added.

Harry's eyes widened in horror. Even as wound-up as he was, that wasn't funny. He quickly crossed the distance to Hermione's side.

"W- why would you do s- something… like…" Harry trailed off. He blinked, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, those puns were really terrible…"

"I knew it. It's his familiar." Hermione triumphantly declared. "He said this morning that she'd poisoned him. Then, in potions, he said it wasn't his fault he was laughing. She's doing something that's making him act silly."

"So, maybe if we separate them…?"

Hermione nodded.

"Great. You realize she's very attached to him, right? Literally." Harry muttered. "And why are you looking at me like I should know what to do?"

"Because they seem to like you. At least, Lady, Ri, and Ru seem to. Maybe she does too."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know if that makes sense…"

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"Fine. Orchid, would you please come out?" he asked.

Nothing happened.

"See?"

"Oh, come on. Even I could tell you weren't even trying." Hermione scolded. "Put some effort into it."  
"You realize she's a man-eating plant, right? I'm pretty sure I don't want to annoy her…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously? It's not like she's going to eat you. Probably."

"Probably…" Harry muttered. He didn't even know her, so how was he supposed to convince her to leave her master? All Harry really knew was the couple of things his friend had said about her. Trying to remember everything Neville had said didn't really help. All that really came to mind was inane things like...

Something clicked in Harry's mind. She was hot.

"Oh, that's too bad. We can't see you under those robes. It seems really sad to hide such a pretty flower away like that."

Hermione gave him a strange look. "Harry, what in the world-"

"What's wrong, Hermione? Don't you like looking at pretty flowers?"

"Well, yes. Of course. They can be quite lovely, but I don't see what-"

There was a rustle of fabric as Neville's robes began to squirm. Vines and creepers began to wind their way out of every opening. They quickly gathered and multiplied, weaving a human form.

Once she'd finished forming, Orchid gave Harry a happy smile. The pair silently stared at her for a long time, the flower happily basking in their attention. Finally, it was Harry that spoke up.

"Uh, Orchid? I think you might've… uh… forgotten something," he said, tapping his chest.

The plant spirit looked down at her bare chest curiously, then looked back up at Harry. With a confused look, she titled her head in that universal "I don't understand" way.

Harry frowned. "Neville already told me about that last night. You know exactly what you're doing wrong. Don't pretend you don't." he said sternly.

Orchid sighed silently. Flowers blossomed along her chest and hips, covering the "naughty bits". Barely. She surveyed her newly-covered form, then gave Harry an expectant look.

"Yes, that works. I guess…" Harry said. He thought for a moment, then turned to Hermione. "Does that work?"

"Well, I can't see her nip- naughty bits."

Orchid frowned and looked down again, clearly unhappy. She made a vague gesture at herself, then tugged at one of the petals covering her chest.

"Oh, don't worry. You look very nice like that, too." Harry reassured her.

The familiar immediately perked up.

"How in the world…?" Hermione muttered.

Harry shrugged. "It was obvious, wasn't it?"

"No, it really wasn't."

"Oh." Harry said, not really sure what to say. He turned back to Orchid. "Now, would you go over there?"

She looked at him curiously.

"Uh… The light's better over there. You'll look even nicer."

Smiling again, Orchid happily bounced her way over to the indicated location. Reaching it, she spread her arms and spun, showing off every inch of her beauty.

Neville stopped giggling almost immediately.

"Wow. Those puns were terrible…" he muttered. He was swaying unsteadily, and looked a little nauseous. "I feel really weird right now…"

"Well, you were laughing a lot longer than Harry was. Maybe it's some sort of withdrawal?" Hermione reasoned.

"Withdrawal…? Wait, did you poison me again?" Neville demanded, glaring at his familiar.

She just stared at him.

"Well?"

She continued to stare.

"Uh, why isn't she saying anything?" Harry asked.

"She can't talk. She doesn't actually breath." Neville responded. "She uses some sort of weird pollen to- oh. She uses pollen. It probably can't reach us over here."

Orchid beamed at him and clapped her hands.

"Oh, be quiet. I'm not very happy with you." Neville sighed. "One of us is gonna need to get closer."

The three stared at each other.

"But if we do that, we might…" Hermione said.

Harry pointed. "Hermione should go. She hasn't had to laugh yet."

"No, she's Neville's familiar. It only makes sense that he would go."

"Yeah, but Harry made all those bad puns. He should go."

The other two stared at Harry. He raised his hand placatingly.

"Now, now, let's not all get caught up in unimportant questions like who made bad puns to who. We need to focus on the real issue here: dealing with Orchid," he said reasonably. "Now, I voted for Hermione, Hermione voted for Neville, and the vile traitor voted for me. It only makes sense that we all go. It's the only democratic way."

"I'm not sure that's how democracy works, Harry."

"Do you hate democracy, Hermione? Do you hate… freedom?" Harry's eyes slowly widened. "Surely you're not a f-"

"I am not a fascist!" Her owl hooted in surprise as its eyes shot open. The sound was drowned out by Hermione's enraged scream. Whirling, she grabbed Neville's robes and violently hauled him forwards. "Come on, Neville!"

Harry trailed along after them as they stalked towards the familiar. It was through sheer happenstance that he was several feet behind them. Sheer… aww, who was he kidding. He couldn't convince himself of that, let alone anyone else. But someone had to survive to tell the tale, right?

Hermione dragged them to a halt about ten feet away from the confused flower.

Neville studied his familiar carefully. "Orchid, are you making anything poisonous right now?" he asked.

The plant thought about it for a moment, then raised her hand. A wiggle of her fingers sent a small rain of white powder to the ground.

"Ah. Other than that, I mean."

She thought again. After a moment, she raised her hands. There was a look of intense concentration on her face as she slowly raised finger after finger. When she raised her last finger, the confusion was replaced by panic. She frantically looked back and forth, searching for a solution to her problem.

After a moment, her eyes fixed on Neville's hands. She pointed at them, then held her open hands up. Sighing, Neville obligingly extended his fingers and held his hands up. Orchid began counting off fingers again. Running out of fingers again caused a second fit of panic.

"Enough. I get the idea. Are you making anything that will make us laugh if we breath it?"

She tilted her head and gave him a confused look.

"Great. What now?"

"What do you figure the effective range is?"

"I don't know." Neville shrugged. "The only time she's been a person, she was sitting right next to me. The rest of the time she's been all wound around me."

"I see." Hermione muttered.

Without warning, she suddenly grabbed his robes and jerked forward. The unexpected move sent Neville stumbling across the grass. There was a surprised squeak as he ran into his familiar. Her pale arms immediately wrapped around his head and neck as she happily pulled his head to her chest.

"Hermione!? What the heck!?"

"I'm sorry, Neville, but sacrifices must be made. Harry and I have voted against either of us being that sacrifice. Isn't that right Harry?" she asked, glaring over her shoulder at him.

An embarrassed chuckle escaped Harry as he nervously rubbed the back of his head. "Heh. I was really hoping you wouldn't notice that."

Hermione stared at him like he was and idiot. "Wouldn't you normally deny something like that?"

"Well, it hardly seems worth the effort of lying now, doesn't it?"

"Guys?" Neville interrupted. His voice was slightly muffled. "I think we're okay."

Harry took a step forward, but stopped short when Hermione threw an arm across his chest. "Wait! He could be trying to trick us!"

"Merlin! Does it look like I'm laughing!?"

"It's kind of hard to tell, actually. We can't really see your head." Harry said reasonably.

Neville sighed and pulled himself away from his familiar's chest. The flower scowled down at him and immediately tightened her grip, pulling him back.

The wizard sighed. "It's safe, I promise. Well, safe for you, anyway."

The other two first-years approached cautiously. Muttering under his breath, he managed to turn his head so he could more less look up at his captor.

"Orchid, you did something bad to me earlier. You can't do things like that. It's not nice." Neville scolded his familiar.

She gave him a puzzled look. What?

There was a coughing, choking noise. Hermione staggered to one side, hand held tight over her mouth. Her face had suddenly gone pale, and she was trembling slightly.

"What the… heck was that?" she said, slowly and carefully. She kept her hand over her mouth the whole time, making it a little hard to understand.

"That's how Orchid talks." Neville answered. "The white stuff causes strange hallucinations."

"That was her talking? It was just a bunch of weird stuff! It was worse than being on a tilt-a-whirl!" Hermione snapped. "There's no way something like that could have any meaning!"

"She's confused. She doesn't understand what Neville is talking about, and she's worried she did something to hurt him." Harry supplied helpfully.

Hermione stared at him.

"What? It was obvious, wasn't it?"

The witch scowled at him and growled, "Not at all. I'm starting to wonder why I like you."

Curious, Neville asked, "Why did that make Hermione sick?"

Incompatible.

The girl in question hit the ground on her hands and knees. She pressed her hand hard over her lips, but it was to no avail. She retched, then heaved. A stream of rainbow-colored liquid poured from her mouth.

The two muggle-borns stared at the technicolor puddle in shock.

"Uh, Hermione? What did you have for lunch?" Harry asked. "Because I think I'm probably not going to have it myself. Ever."

Employing quite a bit of effort, Neville managed to turn enough to face his friends. He pulled Orchid's arms apart, creating just enough room to talk through.

"Oh, that's because of Headmaster Waggleton. There was a magical flu that went around in the late 1800s. From what Gran's mum told her, I guess it was really bad. The headmaster was pretty squeamish, so he put a powerful enchantment on the school. Now, whenever someone throws up the enchantment puts a glamor over it and makes it look like that." Neville explained.

"What a waste of magic…" Hermione muttered. She stared at the pool for a moment and considered the alternative. "Or maybe not. I'm going to be over here. You two have fun with the vomit spirit."

The girl stomped off down the path.

Orchid pouted. Plant…

Giving her arm a comforting pat, Neville reassured her, "She knows you're a plant spirit. She's just a little upset right now. And, in case you were wondering," he called to Hermione, "she said most people don't have the mental flexibility to understand her. Well, it was something like that anyway."

Hermione, now a good distance away, pulled a plastic bottle out of her bag. She took a good slug of it and began swishing it around in her mouth. She growled something unintelligible through the mouthful of liquid. It didn't sound pleasant.

"You keep Listerine in your bag?" Harry asked.

Hermione spat and worked her tongue around her mouth a few times. "My parents are dentists," she offered.

"Oh, that makes sense, I guess," Harry said. He leaned over so he could look between Orchid's arms. "Does that make sense, Neville?" he asked.

"Don't look at me. I don't even know what a dentist is," Neville answered. He was struggling to turn and face Harry better. "You know, that might be easier if you let go of me…"

"Well, she is a Venus Maneater. I think it's only natural she wouldn't want to release you," Hermione reasoned.

Neville paled a little. "Wait, you're not saying…"

"On some level, she probably wants to eat you," Hermione happily said. Vengeance was sweet. "Hence, she wants to keep you trapped."

Neville paled a lot.

"Huh. You know, I wonder why they're called Venus Maneaters... Wouldn't Venus Man-trap make a lot more sense?" Hermione asked.

Shrugging, Harry suggested, "Maybe whoever named them was kind of dumb and wrote the wrong thing down?"

"Honestly, Harry, no one would be that stupid," Hermione rebuked. "What kind of idiot would make a mistake like that? It's probably because they can get up and find their own food."

"A- anyway… aren't we a little off-topic?" Neville squeaked. "O- Orchid, would you please let me go."

The arms tightened around his head.

"W- well, you know I can't look at you like this, right?"

There was a brief pause as Orchid's brain worked furiously. On the one petal, she did like holding on to him. On the other hand, she did like being looked. In the end, it came down to the fact that she'd spent all morning wrapped around him. Declaring it time to be properly admired seemed perfectly reasonable.

Neville sighed in relief as he was released from his gilded cage. Thanks to Hermione, it would probably be awhile before he was completely comfortable being held by his familiar. Intellectually, he knew that she could never do anything to hurt him. Although he knew that, the very thought that she might like holding him because of an instinctive desire to trap prey was a bit disturbing.

Neville frowned as he turned to face his familiar. "Now, do you know what you did?"

The girl looked at him curiously.

"You made me laugh at a really bad time. I don't really remember, but you probably got me in a lot of trouble."

"A lot of trouble., Harry helpfully supplied.

"Great…" Neville muttered.

"A LOT of trouble." Harry clarified.

"Okay, I get it." Neville snapped. He turned to face Orchid. "So, why did you do that?"

Orchid stared at him for a few seconds, then looked down in shame.

Inexperienced.

Both boys considered that. After a long moment of silence, Hermione huffed and stomped her foot.

"Well?"

"She said she's not used to being around humans for more than a couple of hours, and even then they're too busy to worry about the little stuff. She's only used to feeling hungry or full, not all the other strange things that are happening now. She might have released a little poison, kind of like how a person cries when they laugh really hard." Neville explained.

"Wow." Harry said. "I only got half of that."

"Did you get the part with the… uh…"

"The tongue?" Harry finished. "Yeah… I did…"

"Why would you put that in your mouth?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't imagine it tastes very good."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded.

Both boy started and spun to face her. "Nothing!" they said together.

"Right. Could we please go to Herbology now? We are sooooo late." Hermione pleaded. "If we're lucky, we won't lose house points. Well, more house points."

"How many d-" Neville started to ask.

Harry grabbed his arm and started yanking him down the path. "Right! Off to the last five minutes of Herbology."

"Hey! Harry, don't-" Neville protested. "Gah! Fine! Orchid, stay out here for now, okay?"

The spirit frowned, but nodded.

Hermione made a relieved sound when the greenhouse came into view. The first-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were all gathered just inside the large doors.

Professor Sprout put her lecture on hold as they approached. "Where on Earth have you been?" she demanded.

Hermione winced. "I'm sorry, Professor. We-"

"Orchid had some special needs we had to take care of," Harry smoothly interrupted. "It took a little longer than we thought it would."

"Oh my, that's just wonderful!" Professor Sprout happily declared.

Hermione stared at her. "It- it is?" she asked in disbelief.

"Why yes, of course it is. Going to such lengths to care for your familiar shows a great deal of affection and commitment. And the two of you, risking punishment to help your friend… The fact that the three of you didn't end up in my house makes me feel a bit cheated!"

"Oh…" Hermione said, staring at Harry out of the corner of her eye. "Of course."

"Now, come along, come along. Oh, and you, my dear. Would you come here?" she gestured to Orchid.

"Go ahead." Neville instructed.

The plant spirit wandered over to Professor Sprout. The witch immediately began examining every inch of her. Realizing she was suddenly receiving a great deal of attention, she began preening. She even went so far as striking several subtle poses.

Hermione shook her head and began walking towards the greenhouse, only to be brought up short by Harry's arm. The sudden, unexpected impact against her chest nearly knocked the wind out of her.

"Harry? What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Hermione… I just realized something very important," Harry whispered.

"What?"

Harry looked around, checking for observers. Satisfied they weren't being watched, he leaned in close. "There's plants in there!" he whispered with wide eyes.

He was favored with a disbelieving stare. "Of course there're plants in there. It's a greenhouse."

From her other side, Neville asked, "What's going on?"

"Harry says there's plants in the greenhouse."

Neville gave Harry a disbelieving stare. "Of course there's plants in there. It's a greenhouse."

"You don't get it. No one gets it. They're all part of it," Harry said.

"Part of what, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry checked the area again. "The Conspiracy. The Tumbleweed Conspiracy!"

Throwing up her hands, Hermione seethed, "Oh, for heaven's sake! I'm going to class."

"Look Harry. It's fine. Watch." Neville tried to calm the boy.

The young wizard walked towards the greenhouse. Seeing her Keeper on the move, Orchid quickly joined him. The pair casually strolled through the entrance, stopping about ten feet in. Neville turn towards Harry and spread his arms.

"See? It's perfectly s-"

Every plant in the greenhouse reached for Orchid. Growing rapidly, they stretched creepers, vines, leaves and whatever else they had towards her. Seeing the grasping greenery, Orchid panicked. She immediately dived towards Neville, disappearing into his robes.

The plants followed, wrapping around his limbs and trying to slide under his robes. The wizard was quickly wrapped in the rogue plants. They tightened, lifting him into the air. The poor boy was suspended ten feet off the ground by the grasping tendrils of dozens of plants.

"See?" Harry said smugly.

"Wow, I don't know if I should help or get a camera." Hermione announced.

Harry slowly turned to stare at her.

"Wha- No! She's an undocumented species. This is valuable data!"

"Of course Hermione. Of course. You don't have to explain it to me. I don't judge." Harry said, silently judging his friend.

"Get off!" roared Neville.

Enough!

Pissed beyond all reason, Orchid's vine burst forth from her Keeper's robes. They whirled around, instantly turning the encroaching plants into little more than green scraps. Neville hit the ground running, sprinting out of the greenhouse.

"Harry…" he gasped. "I'll never doubt you again."

"Yeah… uh… good. Hey Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"You're wearing a flower's favorite outfit."

Neville looked down at himself. His robes were little more than scraps of fabric on Orchid's thorns. His face pale, he turned to face the greenhouse. The rest of his robes were scattered around the building.

From somewhere in the watching crowd, someone said, "Damn."

* * *

"How in the… guh… world did you… lose your shirt?" Harry gasped.

"Things happened." Angel answered. "Many, many things."

"Stop fooling around and pull it tighter, Harry!" Hermione snapped.

Harry grunted and yanked as hard as he could. One bare foot was braced on his familiar's back, allowing him to yank the fabric with a great deal of force. On the other side of her body, the fabric strained as it tried to force her breasts back.

"Urk! That's… tight… can't… breath…" Angel complained.

Sitting on Neville's bed the foxes snickered.

Looks uncomfortable. Ru observed.

Ri shrugged. Sweet justice.

"Ah! What're you… all jealous about!? You don't… even have any!"

The sisters glared at her, then very pointed got up and sat back down with their backs to her.

"How tight… does this need to be?" he asked.

"How would I know? She's your familiar." Hermione answered. "Now hold still. George just taught me the stitching spell, and I'm not very good at it."

"We could have just… had him do it!"

"Absolutely not. You're one thing. You're her master. But having George here would have been totally inappropriate."

"If… you say so." Harry muttered. "Let's just… do it already."

"Consuo." Hermione intoned.

The edges of the cloth pulled themselves together. A small mote of light darted between them, leaving a thread made of the fabric itself in its wake.

Harry stared at the now-straining fabric. "Wait, you mean I didn't even have to pull?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, at least it worked. The stitches look pretty sturdy. I don't think they're going to come out any time soon."

There was a tearing sound. The fabric that was pulled across Angel's chest began coming apart, small rips appearing all across it. It only took a moment for it to give out entirely. Angel came spilling out as the improvised top suffered a massive structural failure.

Angel giggled. "Behold, my power."

Hermione stared at the ruined cloth with a horrified look on her face.

"Hey, at least the stitches held." Harry pointed out.

"How did that even happen!?" Hermione demanded. "That shouldn't have happened!"

"That shirt was pretty old. Maybe we just need stronger cloth?"

"Or a steel plate. That'd keep those things under control." Hermione muttered.

Harry took a cautious step backward. Keeping an eye on Hermione, he slowly pulled the sheet off his bed. "Since we don't have any steel restraints, how about this?"  
Hermione nodded. "That'll work."

"Wait. Hold on. You're not going to say anything about cutting up the sheets being bad?"

"At this point, Harry, I think I've exceeded my capacity to give a hoot." She growled. Her passenger nodded in agreement.

Several slicing curses, careful positioning and a stitching charm later, the piece of fabric was firmly wrapped around Angel's torso. Both students watched it suspiciously, but it showed no signs of giving out.

"Ohh, silky." Angel announced, running her fingers over the fabric. "I think I like this…"

"Just be careful not to cut it, okay?" he instructed, walking around her. "We don't want to ha- uh… Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I think we have a problem."

Hermione quickly joined Harry. It only took an instant to identify the problem.

"Huh. I didn't realize those sheets were transparent."

"Really transparent."

"Well, technically, the naughty bits are covered."

"Yeah. You get to explain that one to Professor McGonagall."

Angel ran a hand across her chest. "Ooh. I haven't worn something like this in a looooong time."

Both first-years started at her.

She leaned forward and gave them serious, wide-eyed look. "I'll explain when you're older," she whispered.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, I think I'll skip that particular lecture… Do we have a backup plan?"

"A backup for the backup?" Harry thought for a minute, the smacked himself in the head. "Go get Neville. Or just Orchid, if you can get her to come up here alone."

"Sure. Be right back."

Harry sighed as he watched her leave. Having a "impressive" familiar was all well and good, but were they really supposed to be this high-maintenance? She was great and all, but…

...but she was sitting on the edge over his bed, running her hands up and down her chest.

Harry went bright red. "Would you please stop doing that!?"

"But… but… it's silky!"

"Just… don't."

"Okay." Angel agreed. She immediately flopped sideways on his bed. Running her fingers back and forth across her shorts, she frowned. "These aren't silky at all."

It certainly didn't make things any less weird when the foxes hopped over and began rubbing against his familiar's chest.

Very silky.

It is.

Tails better.

Obviously.

"Honestly, how vain can you be?" Angel demanded. She arched her back (pushing her breasts hard against the transparent fabric) and captured a bunch of hair. Stroking it, she announced, "Besides, my tail is much better."

The foxes quickly hopped across her body and buried themselves in her hair.

Ooh, nice.

Quite nice.

Not tail.

But close.

"Okay, okay! Stop! That tickles!"

Both foxes froze. Angel slapped both hands over her mouth as she realized what she'd just said.

\ "Uh, I don't suppose-"

Tickle here? a fox asked, darting by and dragging her tail across Angel's side.

Or here? the other inquiries, assaulting the side of her neck.

The bed quickly became a warzone, the foxes darted around tormenting their new friend. Angel squealed and giggled, twisting and thrashing under their assault.

Let's just say Harry was very glad when the cavalry showed up. Neville froze and turned beet red the moment he saw Angel. Harry was a bit relieved it wasn't just him.

"Great. Let's get this over with," Harry declared. "Angel, take off your clothes."

"Okay!" the familiar happily agreed. She hopped off the bed, sending two foxes tumbling to the mattress.

Hermione gave him a look. "Harry…" she said in a menacing tone.

"Just wait," he said. The was trying very hard not to watch as his familiar struggled out of her shorts. After what seemed like a very long time, she finally managed to finish strippig.

"I'm naked!" she happily declared, holding her shorts above her head triumphantly.

"Yeah, that's what we're trying to fix." Harry grumbled. He pointed in the general direction of his familiar and asked, "Orchid, would you please cover the naughty bits?"

She stared at him for several seconds before her eyes widened in understanding. She turned to look at Neville curiously.

"Go ahead," he said.

The familiar whirled to face Angel and lifted an arm. The appendage split open, allowing thin, leafy strands to emerge. The vines shot forward and began winding around Angel.

The cat giggled. "That tickles."

Since everyone was watching Orchid, Hermione's evil grin went unnoticed. "Remember, Orchid, that it has to be tight."

A sudden, "Eep!" confirmed that the familiar had understood the suggestion.

By the time Orchid was finished, Angel was wearing a brief, form-fitting outfit made entirely of thin, woven vines. There was an odd leaf sticking out here and there, and several flowers placed in strategic positions.

The three humans stared.

"Is it just me," Hermione asked, "or is that even worse than what she was wearing before?"

"I don't think it's you. Angel, please turn around." Harry ordered. His familiar complied. "Well, technically she is covered."

"I can see the top of her cheeks." Hermione deadpanned.

"I can see the bottom of her cheeks." Neville said in a similar tone.

"We- we could try to explain to Orchid what decent clothing looks like."

The three turned to look at the plant spirit. She happily posed so that they could admire her better.

Her "clothing" was made up of black flowers, their overlapping petals looking like ruffled fabric. A thin line of them ringed her neck, traveled down her chest and split into a thicker, upside-down "Y" pattern. It would have looked extremely scandalous on Angel, but managed to be just on the right side of decent on someone of Orchid's… dimensions. The flowers continued around her ribs and crossed at her lower back, then ran across the top of her hips. They terminated in another inverted "Y" of tangled vines and flowers. It looked something like a skirt that started unusually low, its open sides exposing a large amount of hip and thigh.

Overall, it was pretty easy to see how an alura une could lure a man into a messy death.

"We already had the whole 'acceptable clothing' conversation," Neville knows. "She knows she's supposed to be covering her naughty bits."

"Wait, aren't those flowers part of her? Wouldn't they count as her skin? Does clothing that isn't actually clothing count as acceptable?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged and said, "Well, she's covered. Sort of."

"We'll assume that all that matters is naughty bits being obscured in some manner," Hermione decided. "Using a strict definition of the provided criteria, that outfit is technically acceptable."

"Technically," Harry agreed.

"In Angel's case, you cannot actually see the naughty bits, just a large area around them." Hermione continued.

"Very large," Neville agreed.

"Therefore, using the same criteria, Angel's outfit is acceptable," Hermione concluded. "Technically."

"Technically," Harry and Neville concurred.

There was a moment of silence.

"Uh, is that really going to hold up when Professor McGonagall gets really, really mad?" Harry asked.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I'm leaning pretty heavily towards 'no', honestly," she admitted.

There was another moment of silence.

Harry thought for a moment. "Okay, who votes we stay up here and keep trying to solve this problem?"

There was silence.

"And who wants to pretend this never happened and go to dinner?"

"Aye!' "Aye!" "Aye!"

"The vote is unanimous. Solving this problem shall be put on hold until such a time that it solves itself!"

There was much rejoicing.

* * *

Neville was pale and shaking. It seemed like word had already gotten around. Aside from Harry and Orchid on either side of him and Hermione across, there was no one else sitting near them. This wouldn't be odd if King was around, but the disastrous teen was nowhere in sight. To top it off, they were glaring at him. About a third of his own house was looking at him like they wanted him to die.

It was going to be a long dinner.

"Budge over, Harry." Fred ordered. He grabbed the younger boy by the hip and tossed him into the next chair over. Luckily, his aim was pretty good. "Me and Neville here need to have a chat."

On the other side, George bowed politely to Orchid. "Lady Flower, I would appreciate it greatly if you would move over a seat so that I might speak to your master."

The spirit stared at him a moment, examining his face carefully, then nodded and complied. George quickly dropped into her vacated chair.

"I'm thinking there's a really obvious difference in treatment, here." Harry muttered, rubbing his rear.

"Well, Harrynuts, you're not likely to eat me if I piss you off." Fred said reasonably. He threw an arm around Neville and growled dangerously, "Neville…"

"Our good friend Neville…" George said in the same tone.

"You lost us points, Neville."

"You lost us a lot of points, Neville."

"Do you know how many points you lost, Neville?"

"Uh, no I-"

"427 points, Neville."

"You lost us 427 points, Neville."

"That's a lot of points, Neville."

"That's a lot of points, Neville."

"Look, guys, I'm s-"

"Do you understand what this means, Neville!?" Fred shouted.

"Our record is 249, Neville!" George screamed.

"...huh?"

"And that was together! Together, Neville!"

"That means just 124 ½ points apiece, Neville!"

"You can't just raise the bar like that, Neville!"

"Do you know what we're going to have to do now, Neville!?"

"We're going to have to crank it up to 11, Neville!"

"No, we're going to have to break the dial, Neville!"

"Rubber chickens in the hallways, Neville!"  
"Classrooms full of gelatin, Neville!"

"Singing underwear, Neville!"

"Dancing roast chickens, Neville!"

"People glued to the ceiling, Neville!"

Both twins paused.

"Huh. I feel like we're forgetting something, Fred."

"As do I, George. As do I.'

Neville stared. "Wait, you're not mad at me?" he asked incredulously.

Fred gave him a curious look. He asked, "Mad? Why would we be mad?"

"Because I lost…"

"427." George helpfully supplied.

"Because I lost 427 house points! I think we might even be in the negatives. Is- is that even possible."

Fred nodded. "Yes. Yes it is."

"And yes we are." George added, proudly.

"Then why aren't you mad?"

George sighed and slapped Neville on the back. "Oh, Neville. Neville, Neville, Neville. Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Neville, Nevi-"

Fred belted his brother across the back of his head. "Sorry, sometimes he stalls out. Needs a little jumpstart."

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, what do house points get us?"

Neville stared. "They get us the House Cup, of course."

"Very good, my young firstie." Fred congratulated, patting him on the head. "And what does the House Cup get us, exactly."

"It…" Neville paused. He stared at Fred for an extended period of time. "It… makes all the banners our house colors. For one meal." he said slowly. He bit his lip. "There… must be something else, right?"

"No, Neville. There really is nothing else. The promise of great rewards is naught but a sweet lie." Fred sighed.

George added, "The only reason house points exist is so we want house points. That's it."

There was a clatter as Hermione threw her fork to the table. This startled her owl, causing it to miss the piece of roast beef Crookshanks was dangling in front of its beak. "Wait, everyone acts like house points are really important! Just look at how mad they are at Neville! Are you saying that they're nothing but a substanceless system put in place to make us think we want to behave!?"

There was a gasp. "She gets it! She gets it Fred! No one ever gets it! They all just look at us as if we were mad, mad I tell you!" screamed George. He threw his head back and began cackling crazily.

Fred, on the other hand, leaped up on the table. Plates and silverware went flying in every direction. Standing at full height, he whispered, "Sonorus."

"House points are a lie! House points are a lie! Your lives are being controlled by ruthless academic dictators! Rise against-"

George grabbed his brother's ankle and yanked, making him slam into the table. More plates and silverware were dislodged. He forcibly dragged Fred across the surface and threw him back into his chair.

"Operate from the shadows, Fred! What part of that was 'in the shadows', exactly!? Do you really want them to know what we're planning?"

"Yes," said Harry with a solemn nod, "The Tumbleweed Conspiracy is both ruthless and resourceful."

George threw up a hand, making a broad gesture. "Exactly! The Tumbleweed Conspiracy is both… what?" he trailed off. Giving Harry a disbelieving stared he asked, "Did you just say something about a tumbleweed conspiracy?"

"No, I said something about the Tumbleweed Conspiracy. The capitalization is very important," Harry said sternly.

Neville groaned and buried his face in his hands. "He's been talking about that all day. I really have no idea what he's going on about."

Orchid gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"Thank you. I…" Neville stared. Orchid was still still sitting on the other side of George. She had leaned back and extended her arm, vines growing out to extend her reach. She had clearly just given Neville a comforting pat using a dismembered arm suspended by a bunch of thorny vines.

The plant spirit gave him a cheerful smile.

"Yeah. That's not disturbing." he muttered. He gave his familiar a halfhearted wave.

Satisfied, she retracted the limb and went back to picking at a plate heaped with various meat products.

Fred and George exchanged a glance. Fred coughed into his hand. "We, ah, we might know something about that."

"What did you do!?" Hermione demanded.

The twins stared at her.

"Wow, she's only known us a day and she's already accusing us of stuff."

"I know. She catches on really quick for a firstie."

"Anyway, it wasn't us," Fred shrugged. "It just kinda happens. You suddenly toss a muggleborn in the middle of a bunch of magic, and some of them just can't handle it."

"They snap." George punctuated the word by snapping his fingers. "They go all weird for a while, but they usually come out of it pretty quick. They're fine afterwards, 'cept a couple of things."

"And exactly what does that mean?"

"There's usually some kinda lasting effect related to whatever triggered the freakout. King went full-on terror mode when he saw a tiny elephant, and now he won't go near anything with a long nose or face. Elephants, horses, llamas, all kinds of stuff."

"Even emus, for some reason. He flips out when they get within ten feet of him."

Hermione glared at him. "And why would poor King be within ten feet of an Emu?"

"There was a couple dozen of them running around the castle last year," George said nonchalantly. "For about half the year, actually. It was the weirdest thing."

Fred nodded. "I know, wasn't it? Who would have thought flightless birds would be so good at dodging spells."

"Too bad they got into that grease. Made it really hard to grab them," George sighed, shaking his head. "Kind of weird that it never rubbed off or anything."

"They even had little festive hats around Christmas."

"It was great. Still, I'm sure the responsible parties would have gone with a different non-indigenous animal if they had known how it would affect King."

"Like narwhals."

"Look, we've been over this. How in the world would a bunch of narwhals... Ah, nevermind."

Fred cleared his throat. "Anyway, it happens fairly often."

"Harry flipped out because of a tumbleweed. Makes sense he'd be weird about anything similar now."  
Harry grumbled. "What's weird about it? Who in their right mind would trust a tumbleweed? Always rolling around… Did you know they're poisonous? They're just waiting for you to eat them, and then that's when they strike!"

"Is that why he thought all the plants in the greenhouse were out to get him?" Neville asked thoughtfully.

Hermione turned towards him with wide eyes. George took the opportunity to flip a piece of meat into the air while she was looking away. The tiny owl happily caught it and quickly made it vanish.

"Oh, that would make sense. Judging by King's case, the lasting effect isn't necessarily limited to the original trauma. Tumbleweeds are plants…"

"You've got to be careful, though. Whatever set it off in the first place tends to get a really strong reaction." George said. "Lettin' Harrytoes get near… one of those things… probably isn't a good idea."

He probably shouldn't have, but Harry launched a piece of roast chicken at the little bird. Those wide, pleading eyes had just looked so hungry, and no one liked being hungry. He probably would have sent it another, but Hermione quickly turned towards him.

"Don't worry, Harry, we'll find a way to deal with this."

"You'll protect me from the Conspiracy?" he asked with wide eyes. His eyes widened even further as a thin, ivy-like vine snaked up and dropped a bit of meat in the owl's mouth.

Everyone else was doing it, so it was clearly the proper way to behave…

"We can probably get a special exception to get Harry out of Herbology," George suggested. "They're usually pretty understanding about muggleitosisitis."

"It is not called that." Hermione protested.

"Oh, it is indeed, Madam Frizzyhair. For now, we just have to keep Harry away fr- ack!" George hacked, then began coughing and choking. He began pounding the table, gasping for breath and blindly searching for a goblet of juice.

Fred stared at his brother in shock. "Hey, George, you okay? What the heck- Sweet Merlin!"

"Hi~!" Angel sang out as she bounced - in at least two sense of the word - up to the table. "I'm sorry that took so long. There were some naughty leaves tickling me in some really strange places. It was kinda hard to cut them off without cutting everything else."

"Well," Fred said helpfully, "if you ever find yourself having the need, I would be happy to be tickly in strange- aahh!"

The boy screamed and tumbled back in his chair. He'd barely had time to cover his face before an angry fox launched off his lap. There was a series of shrieks and angry snarls, sounds most of the people at the Gryffindor tables were used to.

"And where have you been?" George asked Ru as she climbed up onto the table.

Watching kitty. Ru snickered.

George gave her a blank stare.

Ru sighed. Stupid human. Can't talk. Can't hear, she grumbled. She hopped off the table, then immediately returned with a glass vial in her mouth. Proudly, she offered it to her human.

George held it up curiously. "Delightful Dermal Dye? This didn't work, remember? This last batch came out too thick to even soak into your skin."

Works good. Real good. Ru declared. She raised a paw and pointed at the vial insistently.

"You're saying it actually works?"

She shook her head.

"Then it doesn't work?"

She shook her head.

"Look, it'd be great if you'd just make up your mind."

Sighing, Ru pointed at the vial again, then used her tail to point over where Angel was standing by the table.

George blinked. "It makes hot, stacked chicks?" he asked hopefully.

One white paw slammed down on a handle. The steak knife was sent spinning into the air. Ru deftly caught it, holding it in her mouth by the grip. Staring at George's neck, she turned her head to make a slow cutting motion.

"No worries. No worries. I was just thinking of the marketing potential. The huge marketing potential." There was a growl. "A- anyway, what the heck does it do then?"

Ru thought for a moment, then lunged forward and savagely attack George's robes. Still chewing on them, she used her tail to point at Angel again.

George stared. He look up and examined the cat's new wardrobe, then looked down at the fox. She was staring up at him with a proud smirk.

"No. No way," he said slowly. "You're not seriously telling me that this stuff eats…"

The fox nodded.

A little down the table, Hermione was wondering if she'd ever get to eat a normal meal again. One of the twins was holding some sort of conversation with a fox. The other was being brutally mauled by the same. Orchid had reclaimed her seat next to Neville and was trying to feed him pieces of fruit, which wouldn't have been nearly as weird if she hadn't grown them herself. Her head had felt strange all day, and the fact that Angel was leaning over Harry's shoulder to steal his food was making her glad she was the only one on this side of the table.

"Dear God!"

Of course, the other side was probably just as bad.

King stood just inside the Great Hall, frozen. His eyes were quite obviously fixed on Angel's… on Angel. Behind him, Lady made an annoyed face and whirled, winding up and wailing him across the back of the head. All she accomplished was spraying half the table down with her arm.

Fred finally got a hold of Ri and yanked her away from his face. "Hey, don't worry, King. That seems to be going around tonight," he chuckled. Raising an eyebrow at the snarling ball of fur he was barely restraining, he politely asked, "George, please pass the pumpkin juice."

George helpfully leaned down and handed his brother a full goblet. Fred held his fox off to the side and immediately doused her with it. He dropped the sodden fox to the floor with a wet splat, ignoring the hurt look she gave him.

"You know, if I were covered in pumpkin juice, I'd want to get it off as soon as I could. It gets awfully sticky if it dries out." Fred said casually.

Ri's look immediately changed from hurt or horrified. She shot out of the great hall like a bullet.

"Red, that was a most unpleasant thing to do to your own familiar," King said with a frown. His butt had barely hit the seat before Lady invaded his lap. She shot Angel a nasty glare, the began giving her wizard a cold stare from just inches away. "Disregarding that, she is bound to be most wroth with you. I would assume you can expect a significant amount of retaliation in the near future."

George laughed. "Well, I bet she's gonna be pretty pissed when she realizes that was water."

Groaning, Ru covered her eyes with her paws. Stupid sister.

"Hmmm… I don't know. I'd probably be all upset like that too," Angel mused. "Getting sticky stuff all over your face is bad enough, but it's even worse if you get it in your hair, too. Especially if it's all salty. Is pumpkin juice salty?"

Fred and George stared at her.

"What, you've never been in a bar fight? Some of the stuff they throw is gross."

George shook his head. With a grin, he raised the vial. "Right. Moving on. Brother, you won't believe-"

Angel let loose a vicious hiss as he raised the small, glass vial. Before he could react, she hit it with a powerful backhand. The vial was knocked loose from his grip and sailed through the air. As it flew, a thin, hairline fracture spread across the middle. It split into two pieces just as it began to fall.

"Nasty stuff…" hissed Angel.

"Ooookay…."

On the other side of the hall, there was a deafening shriek. Someone yelled, "Cho!"

Someone else said, "Damn."

A nude girl rushed from the hall, her friends barely manageing to hide her from sight.

"Damn," Fred repeated. "She is not having a good week."

"I liked that top…" Angel sulked.

* * *

"Wait, why were you all excited about Neville losing all those points?" Hermione suddenly asked as the group walked down the hall.

"Because it was awesome." Fred grinned.

"Legendary." George added.

Hermione shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. You were all worried that we'd lose points when Angel smashed that disgusting thing against the wall this morning."

"No, we were upset because Harry was going to lose the points," George explained. "We hadn't even lost any points yet. Couldn't have a firstie showing us up. Plus, that was really gross."

"Neville's one thing," Fred continued. "Neville's a god. You can't compete with a god. Plus, that was really gross."

"Oh, and we're your first worshipers, oh great Lord Nev. Sooo… enjoy that."

Neville mumbled, "Why do I feel like my life just got shorter…?"

"That's a good feeling. Go with that." Fred said as he stopped in front of the Fat Lady. He paused, staring at her. The woman in the portrait was pale and clearly sweating. "Hey, uh, you okay?"

"O- of course. W- why do you ask?"

Fred stared. "Because you're all pale an-"

"D- don't be silly, dear. Portraits d- don't get pale," she protested. "Now, password?"

"Uh. Right. Half-naked cats roam, their cheeks exposed to the air. Skin so supple, bliss."

The Fat Lady started.

"What? It's a haiku. Rather artistic, wouldn't you say?"

"That is not the password."

"Yeah, but it sounds a lot better than, 'snot-flavored beans', doesn't it?"

The portrait swung open.

"Aww, damn it." Fred muttered.

"Hey," Harry suddenly spoke up, "where'd Angel go? Please don't tell me she disappeared again. After what happened last time…"

Neville gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry, I just saw her go into the wall."

"That's… kind of exactly what I was worried about," he sighed. "She didn't leave the plants behind, did she?"

"No, I think they were tight enough. They're not on the floor, at least."

"You know, I just thought of something." Fred suddenly stated.

George paused as he stepped through the portrait into the common room. "Oh? And what is that, brother mine?"

"Well, it's a little thing. A tiny detail, really. Hardly worth mentioning."

"I'm all ears. I have time to burn." George offered.

"Well, it just happened to occur to me - just a funny little thought that popped into my head - to wonder if anyone has seen our disappointment today."

Hermione, Harry and Neville froze. Come to think of it, the youngest redhead hadn't been in any of their classes. They hadn't even really noticed he was missing.

"So does anyone…" George asked. He trailed off, staring at the foxes resting on Angel's shoulders. They were giving him wide, innocent stares. It was pretty much the fox equivalent of whistling nonchalantly. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Ri chuckled and hopped off her mount, quickly streaking under a chair and returning with a Chocolate Frog wrapper. She laughed again as she held it up towards George.

George reached out to take it. The fox quickly darted away and held it up again, a few feet away. Curious now, he allowed the fox to lure him up the stairs to the boys' third-floor dormitory. Once there, she hopped onto his heavily-damaged trunk and spat the wrapper out. She tapped her foot on the lid.

"Wait, you told him there were Frogs in there?" George asked.

The fox nodded.

"He didn't-"

Fred started laughing. "He did," he said, pointing up.

There, plastered to the ceiling by a thick, green ooze, was Ronald Weasley. He was shaking his head and trying to scream through to substance that was covering his mouth.

"Good thing we made that porous." Fred observed.

George sighed. "Oh, Ronnie, what have we told you about going into our things?"

* * *

A shocked scream erupted from the girls' lavatory.

"Why didn't anyone tell me!?"

* * *

A/N:

So, when I originally conceived this story, I intended it to be a part humor and part action / adventure sort of thing. Basically, it was always intended to be a story with a plot, rather than just random humor. At some point, I kind of wandered away from the whole "plot" thing. Like, a lot. I had originally intended for the whole first year to be ten chapters. Obviously, that didn't really pan out.

At some point, this story decided to go completely off the rails and do whatever the hell it wants. Seriously, this story is longer than the first Harry Potter book and I haven't gotten past the first week of school. I'm not sure where I lost control here, but... wow...

Long story short, I'm going to try to get back to the plot. This means the jokes might slow down a little. I say "might" because... uh... Well, the next chapter is almost done. It was the first chapter that I intended to get a little more of the plot and the serious stuff into. You'll see how well that worked out when it's ready to be posted.

Spoiler: Not real well.


	11. Mail-Order Mail Owls

Something Familiar

Chapter 11: "Mail-Order Mail Owls"

AKA: "I Apologize in Advance"

* * *

Note: From here on out, a ~ denotes either an drawn-out syllable or sing-song tone, depending on context. Basically, "Nooooo!" becomes "No~!"

* * *

"My Boy, can I borrow your knife?"

Harry turned to look at his familiar curiously. She was looking at him hopefully, her open hand raised towards him. The sharpened edges of her nails gleamed ominously in the morning light.

"I thought you liked to use those," he responded. He waved his pancake-laden fork at the deadly implements, being sure to not actually touch them. "Why do you need a knife?"

"Silly My Boy. Claws are good for lotsa things, but not everything. Sometimes you just need a knife," she said seriously.

"Fine. Just don't cut it up, okay?" Harry sighed. He raised his other hand and reluctantly held the utensil for her to take.

"Thank you, My Boy!" she chirped, smacking it with the back of a nail. The knife was flung into the air, spinning wildly. Angel deftly caught the tip between her first and second fingers, cocked her hand back and snapped her wrist. There was a brief flash of silver as it vanished towards the ceiling.

Harry gaped. "Angel, what are y-"

Maple syrup and pieces of pancake splattered him as something large and grey slammed into his plate at high velocity. Eggs sprayed across the table, prompting Fred and George to reflexively raise their robes to shield their meals. Students further down the table shouted in shock as some of the debris made it far enough to cross the empty space and exit King's zone of denial.

Harry stared down at the large, grey barn owl staring up at him from what had been, just moments ago, his breakfast. The creature's beak worked open and closed, as if telling a wordless tale of terror. Its eyes were fixed on him, gazing through him towards something that no living creature should ever see.

"Angel?"

"Yes, My Boy?"

"Why is there an owl in my eggs?" Harry quietly asked.

The familiar placed a finger on her lips and pouted. "I'm sorry, My Boy. Birdie turned at the last second. It made my aim bad," she explained. Tapping the middle of the table she continued, "Birdie was supposed to land here."

"Right," Harry sighed. "Lets try again. Angel, why did you hit an innocent owl with a butter knife?"

"We~ll, I wanted to use a piece of plate, but then birdie probably wouldn't do any more birdying. I thought that would make you sad."

"Honestly, Harry, what did you expect to happen?" Hermione asked from the egg-free side of the table. "Last time she 'used' a butter knife she tried to impale Lady with it. What did you think she was going to do? Cut her pancakes with it?" She gestured towards Angel's empty plate, which had been divided into six perfectly even segments.

"Eating is hard…" the familiar grumbled.

"I didn't think she was going to kill an owl with it!" Harry snapped.

Angel gasped. "I didn't kill birdie! I was a good kitty! I just banged him in the head a little."

The owl began emitting a high-pitched clicking noise. It slowly rolled off Harry's plate, head swiveling to keep its eyes on him the whole time.

Angel giggled slightly and rubbed the back of her head. "O~kay, maybe I banged him in the head a lot. I've never hit an owl-birdie with a stupid dull knife before!" she said defensively. "There's a… uh… that thing where the thing you wanna do isn't what you did, but it's kind of close…? "

"Margin of error." Hermione helpfully offered.

"Right. That. Hitting things with other things isn't easy. I'd like to see you do better…" Angel sulked.

"That… that isn't even the problem here." Harry sighed. "I don't care what you used to do it or how hard- Actually, it's good that you didn't hit it hard."

The owl tried to flap its wings, but that proved to be impossible while laying on its side. All it managed to do was catapult itself into a startled Harry's lap.

"Gah! Owl!" he yelped in surprise. He just barely managed to catch it before it rolled off his lap and fell to the floor. Holding it up, he inspected its face carefully. "Uh, I'm not an owl doctor, but I think this thing's pretty messed up."

As if in response to the comment, the owl began turning its head. It went around two full revolutions before coming to rest with its eyes on Harry.

The table went silent.

"Uh… can owls do that?" Neville asked quietly.

"No, they can't." Hermione answered. "If that thing starts launching pea soup, I'm out of here."

Harry stared. "I- I could swear I was about to ask a question."

"Whether or not Kitten can kill a possessed owl with a butter knife?" George suggested.

Angel cheerfully raised a hand, brandishing a dull implement of destruction. "I can! Wait… are these made of blessed silver? 'Cuz if they're not, it's gonna take longer and be a lot messier…"

"Right. That. Drop it!" Harry ordered. Angel immediately dropped the weapon, letting it fall to the table. "You're not allowed to use butter knives anymore. You have lost your butter knife privileges. Understand?"

"Yes…" Angel sulked.

"Good." Harry carefully stood the owl on the table. The creature stood upright for about half a second before wobbling, tipping and landing face-first in Harry's pancakes. A few moments after it fell its feet began to move, shifting back and forth as if it was trying to balance itself.

Frowning, Harry set the owl back on its feet. It emitted a low whistle and fell the other way, nearly falling of the table. He set it on its feet again and scowled when it fell backwards and knocked over a goblet. It was set on its feet yet again, but fell backwards once more and somehow wedged its head in the fallen goblet.

"You know what? Fine." Harry hissed. He grabbed the goblet and flipped it back upright. The poor owl was stuck upside down in it. One of its legs was attempting to walk, while the other was making a strange hopping motion.

"Now, why did you use a butter knife to inflict permanent brain damage on an owl?" he demanded.

"O~h, why didn't you just ask that earlier?" Her hand flashed out and hauled the damaged creature into the air. Harry stared as it swung - complete with goblet - from the loop of leather cord she'd slipped a nail through. "Birdie was bad. He had things for you, but didn't bring them."

Hanging from the leather cord was a small envelop. It was made of what Harry thought must be rather nice paper, and had the name "Harry James Potter" written on it. The ink was even flecked with a reflective substance, making it shine in the morning light.

"My middle name is James?" he asked in amazement.

"See? Bad birdie," Angel said happily. She quickly turned her hand over, introducing the leather cord to the sharpened side of her nail. It offered no resistance, immediately sending the owl plunging towards the table. The goblet hit the wooden surface with a deep thunk. More of the owl vanished as the impact drove it deeper into the vessel.

The envelope didn't even fall half an inch before it was snatched out of the air. Angel smiled as she raised her hand, offering Harry the envelope. He took it from between her knuckles with a look of disbelief on his face.

"Do you always hold things like that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Huh?" Angel eloquently responded without taking her eyes off Harry. Getting scolded was worth it if it made her Boy this happy. "Like what?"

"Like this." Hermione held up a closed fist and pointed to the space between her first two fingers. "With the knife and the envelope, both times you held them here."

"Oh. Kitties don't normally have their claws out, but mine don't go in. I cut things on accident, so I can't really use here," she raised her hands and pressed the pads of her fingers together. "I can make them not-sharp if I try, but it's hard to think about doing things and not cutting things at the same time."

` "That would make fine manipulation pretty difficult," Hermione mused. "What about Harry? You sleep with him, right? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Uh-uh. I don't even have to think about not cutting My Boy. If something's really, really important to me, I don't need to think about not hurting it. My claws just go dull all on their own. Someone I knew said it must be something I do sub… uh… sub..."

"Subconsciously?" Hermione supplied.

"Yeah, that one. There's not a lot of things like that, though. I can touch My Boy all I want, but it'd be bad if my claws got you…"

Hermione stared at the neatly-sectioned metal plate. "Yeah, I can see that not being a good thing."

"Oh, but you don't have to worry. I'm really good at not scratching things on accident. I've got lotsa practice!"

"That's reassuring, at least. Still, that must be awfully inconvenient," Hermione mused, staring down at her plate. "Hmm…"

She absently held up a piece of bacon, barely noticing the tug as it vanished. While the answer was interesting, it appeared her master plan was flawed. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her that segueing from, "Angel, how do you pick things up?" to, "Harry, why didn't you know your own middle name?" might be difficult.

Operation "Use the Familiar to Open a Channel to Indirectly Ask a Personal Question" was a complete failure. She had learned something valuable, though: any plan that hinged on her social acuity was doomed to fail. A lifetime of having no friends had clearly reduced her ability to act with finesse in social situations.

Also, it appeared she was really bad at naming strategies.

She continued to stare at her pancakes, lost in thought. Every now and then one hand would rise, allowing a bit of bacon to disappear.

The rules of the wizarding world were remarkably inconsistent, and it was beginning to annoy her. The Bond was supposed to prevent a familiar from deliberately harming their master, but that didn't seem to apply here. Cutting someone in your sleep wouldn't be deliberate at all. For that matter, she'd seen one of the twins get mauled by their familiars multiple times in the past two days. If that didn't fall under the "do not harm" clause, what did?

She felt like she was missing a piece here. She hated that feeling.

Harry was also lost in thought, still staring at the small envelope in disbelief. He didn't even notice when the damaged owl vanished.

One tiny leg kicked in the air as George swung the goblet by the stem. The other was tucked up tight to the owl's body, quivering slightly. An odd howling could be heard, reverberating inside the goblet.

"Y'know, I really hope this thing's okay." George sighed.

Fred nodded. 'Yeah, we keep breaking mail owls and we'll probably get in trouble."

"That's what you're worried about?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, what else should we be worried about?" George asked. He was doing a rather remarkable job twirling the goblet around one finger by the stem. With a slight twist, he sent it spiraling into the air.

Fred casually caught the falling owl and sent it spinning across the table with a flick. "Yeah. It's not like our reputations could get any worse. Especially since we hang out with King."

There was an annoyed harumph from further down the table.

"The owl, maybe?" Hermione responded, pointing at the cup George was carefully examining. "Lord knows I have no sympathy for the vile, disgusting creatures, but this just seems inhumane."

Neville stared. "Uh, Hermione? You have an owl on your shoulder."

The girl turned to look at the tiny owl. Smiling as it made another bit of bacon vanish, she rubbed it on the head. "Gee, thank you Neville. I'm so glad someone pointed out I was occupied by an owl in such an efficient and timely manner," she growled.

"What he's trying to say is that it seems a bit silly to say that when you've spent the last twenty minutes feeding an owl your breakfast. It makes you look a little foolish," George clarified. He frowned as he gave the trapped owl's feet a little tug. The creature showed no sign of budging. "Fred, I need a #2 spoon and some strawberry… no… grape jam."

"Well, she's obviously an exception. Just look at how pretty she is. And well mannered, too," Hermione stiffly announced. The owl puffed itself up and stood tall under her loving gaze.

"You totally lost it when you found that thing last night," Fred protested. "Brother, we don't have a #2 spoon. All we've got is a #4 and a #Q."

"Damn it. The #4 will have to do," muttered George.

"We bonded!" Hermione insisted. "She's my favorite owl now. And she's not a thing, she's Headwig."

Both Fred and George paused to stare at her. "Seriously?" they asked together.

"It wasn't my idea! It was Crookshanks'. He said she sat on my head like a wig," Hermione explained. "He's the one that said we should adopt her. He thought I should have someone competent to watch me when he had to do important cheshire things. I mean, he didn't say it like that, of course. And I'm not even entirely sure that's what he meant. Either way, she's mine now."

"Uh-huh. Regardless, you don't really have to worry about the mail owls. They're not real owls."

Hermione stared at him. "What?"

"They're mass-produced in growing vats," George clarified. "They're conditioned to deliver mail with mind magic, then sold off. They're a lot closer to being homunculi than real owls."

"You realize I'm not an idiot, right?"

King cleared his throat, momentarily pushing Lady's fork away from his mouth. "Actually, they are speaking the truth. I was hesitant to believe it myself, but all my research into the subject has only verified Red's claims, absurd as they may be."

"See? Totally artificial. They don't have feelings," George continued. He was carefully using a spoon to apply jam to the lip of the goblet. "They're pretty close to not being alive, really."

"They're just another disposable commodity. Heck, they're even delivered by mail owls. Ironic, huh?"

George sighed. "That's not ironic, Fred. It's just kinda weird."

"But- but… Headwig!" Hermione protested.

"Don't know why you care, but I wouldn't worry about it. She's not a standard-issue model, and I doubt anyone would bother to have a custom model made that small. Little thing can probably barely carry a letter."

Hermione smiled and snatched Headwig off her shoulder and hugged her. The owl made a happy noise as she was squeezed against the witch's chest. "See? I knew you were different."

"Right…" Fred drawled as Hermione cheerfully went back to eating her breakfast. He shook his head. "Brother, do you think it would help if we poked it with a stick?"

"Perhaps, but we're distinctly lacking in sticks at the moment."

Something poked him in the side. Looking down, he discovered… a stick!

"Will this do?" Neville asked, holding it up.

George inspected it carefully. "Hmm… that is rather nice, but I don't suppose you have one of a larger diameter? It would be ideal if it had a three degree bend in the middle."

Neville shrugged and held a hand out to the side. Smiling happily, Orchid placed a new stick in it.

"Here."

In exchange for his wooden implement, Neville received an impressed look. "Rather useful, that… Now, let's see…" He poked the owl's feet with the stick. When that got no response, he poked it in the rear. "Fred, it's not helping."

"Hmm… perhaps if we had a larger stick?"

There was a bang as a small log the size of a man's arm slammed onto the table.

"Yeah, that's probably not-"

"You're doing it wrong."

Fred, George and Neville let out yelps of surprise. Fred's plate went flying as he failed to regain his balance and Orchid just barely caught Neville before he hit the floor. The only one to successfully remain seated was George, and that was only because of the slim hand that was suddenly holding his shoulder.

Fred stared at the gleaming, four-centimeter nails. Leaning back a little, he glanced over to his other side. Angel was leaning over his shoulder, staring at the fallen goblet.

"Kitten, where the heck did you come from?" he demanded. Sure, they had all been focusing on the owl, but surely they hadn't been that distracted. At least Fred should have noticed her, considering he was facing straight towards his brother.

"Hm… That's a kinda messy and icky story. Lotsa sticky fluids. Mighta been some chains involved," she giggled. Quickly reaching out, she traced a semicircle across the side of the cup. A sizable chunk of metal fell out, allowing the owl to roll onto the table.

It immediately spread its wings and began making a strange "meep" noise.

George carefully picked it up and tapped the side of its head. "Damn, I think it's pretty busted up. Hey, anyone in there?"

"No~… you're doing it wrong again! Here, let me try!" Angel snatched it out of his hand before he could stop her.

"Kitten, I don't know if-"

Raising the owl to eye level, she gave it a sweet smile. "Bir~die~," she quietly sang in a low voice.

George shivered involuntarily as an ice-cold chill went down his spine.

The owl's wings lowered in jerky motions. Its eyes snapped onto Angel, rather than staring at some mysterious, distant point. Very slowly, its beak opened.

"See? I fixed-"

The owl screamed.

It wasn't a chirp, hoot, whistle, or any other sound you could reasonably expect an owl to make. It was an honest-to-god scream. Even worse, the sound that violently erupted from the owl was a noise that no mortal creature should be able to produce. It was like someone took a seventy-thirty mix of pure fear and suffering, added a dash of mind-numbing terror, blended well and converted the resulting concoction straight into sound. Just hearing it made George want to cower in a corner.

Angel screamed bloody murder and released it.

The damaged owl took off like a shot. It was little more than a grey blur as his launched itself directly away from Angel. The whole time its head was turned around so it could keep its crazed eyes fixed on the redhead. It continued to scream without pause, as if it had transcended to a level of fear the rendered breathing meaningless.

The scream cut off suddenly, terminating in a wet splat.

George, shuddering as he shook off the lingering effects of the nightmarish howl, started. "Damn. They really should have made that window bigger," he muttred. Feeling a tug at his sleeve, he looked down.

"George? Mail owls don't have feelings, right George? They're not really alive, right George?" Neville shakily asked.

Sighing, George nodded firmly. "That's right. That was just some kind of… malfunction."

"A horrible, horrible malfunction," added Fred.

"A terrifying malfunction that will haunt my dreams."

"Less of a malfunction and more like the birth of an unnatural abomination, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed it was, Fred. Its very existence was an insult to all living things."

"The world is better off without it."

"Why, it would be for the best if it vanished entirely."

"Can I eat it, then?" Angel eagerly asked.

Harry, still running his fingers lightly across his envelope, absently muttered, "Sure."

Everyone at the table - humans, foxes, elemental, plant and cat - stared at Harry in shock. For just a moment, everything was dead silent as they looked at him with wide eyes.

The silence was broken by Angel screaming, "Yay!"

She vaulted George and landed on the table. Before anyone could stop her, she launched herself into the air. She easily cleared the distance to Hufflepuff's section of the hall. Plates flew in every direction as she landed in the center of a table, eliciting a flurry of angry shouts.

She didn't even seem to notice them as she catapulted towards Ravenclaw. She hit hard and barely managed to dig her nails in before she slid off. Grinning gleefully, she tore down the length of the table. Food was flung in every direction she trampled serving dishes and plates.

The rest of the group was still staring at Harry.

Finally noticing he was the center of attention, Harry looked up from the envelope curiously. "What?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Harry, my friend, I do regret to inform you that… you may have-"

Hermione cut King off. "You told Angel she could eat a mail owl, Harry."

"I did?" Harry asked, staring at her in shock.

There was a sickening crunch, audible even from the Gryffindor tables. It was quickly followed by an array of screams, punctuated by loud gagging noises. One voice in particular drowned out the others as it screamed, "Oh god! She got it in my eyes!". It was immediately followed by a quieter voice yelling, "Oh no! Cho!"

"Huh. I did," Harry observed.

"It's gonna be re~ally hard to deny this one, huh Fred?" George muttered. He paused, then looked across the table. There was a very obvious lack of Freds there. The fox laying next to his plate tapped his arm, then used her tail to point down the table.

"What's that George?" Fred yelled. "I can't hear you from all the way down here, which is where I've been eating my breakfast all morning!"

"Well played, brother," George sighed. Shaking his head, he smiled down at the fox. "At least I can count on you, right?"

She looked up at him with obvious pity in her eyes. A white paw lashed out and knocked the last of his bacon off the table. She quickly joined it, dropping into his lap next to her sister. The pair gathered up the food in their mouths and took off down the bench as fast as their paws could carry them.

"That reminds me… Could you pass the bacon?" Hermione asked.

King just gave her a shocked stare, so Lady helpfully leaned over and pushed the platter towards her.

"How in the world could you possibly eat after… that?"

"What? I'm hungry. It's not like a cat hybrid tearing apart a mutilated mail owl's corpse with her bare hands is a big deal," she said defensively. She paused for a moment with a piece of bacon halfway to her mouth. Headwig happily fluttered by and repossessed it. "Wow. I haven't even been here for two days and I have no idea where the line for 'weird' is at this point."

King sighed. "It would perhaps be better if we all simply forgot this, at least until the inevitable repercussions… arrive…" he trailed off, looking at something behind Harry.

A pair of arms slipped around him from behind and locked him in a hug. Angel happily leaned down and nuzzled the side of his face. "Thank you, My Boy. Birdie was ve~ry good, and I'm sure he was happy he could be useful even after he wasn't a birdie anymore."

Harry twitched. "Angel, that was jam you just wiped all over my cheek, right?"

"Uh… I guess it was… kinda… jam?"

Harry twitched again. "Angel, that was jam you just wiped all over my cheek."

"O~h. I get it! Of course it was jam, My Boy. What else could it be?" she asked, bouncing back into her seat. She smiled at him. Her lower face and upper chest were painted red. Scattered here and there were small, wet chunks that were definitely just strawberries. "You can be so~ silly, My Boy."

Harry sighed and glanced up and down the table. Frowning, he stretched across and snatched a couple of pieces of toast off their platter. "Here," he said, thrusting them at Angel. "Wipe all the… jam off."

She took the toast and began doing exactly that, humming a happy tune while she scraped off the red mess.

Harry sighed and grabbed a piece of toast for himself. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing as he wiped his cheek with it.

"Well, that's disgusting," Hermione declared, taking another bite of toast. "Did you manage to get any in your mouth?"

"Oh, I got lots in my mouth. But birdies are really wet when they're nice and warm, so they go squirt when you bite them."

"Yeah, I probably could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that," George muttered.

"That makes sense. The blood wouldn't have started coagulating yet. Have you tried, I don't know… cutting a hole and squeezing it all out? Maybe that'll help." Hermione suggested.

"Hermione! Don't encourage her!" Harry snapped.

"What, you really want to get 'jam' all over your face next time this happens? Oh, and you missed a spot." She flipped a piece of toast towards him, then picked up another one and began munching on it. "Hey, is there any strawberry jam left?"

Harry frowned at her as he wiped his cheek again. "How can you just sit there eating toast after that?"

"it's not like I actually saw it. So she came back with little blood and gore on cares? There's worse in movies," Hermione said defensively. "And anyway, a cat ate an owl. Big deal. It's perfectly natural. I mean, owls are probably a bit big for most cats, but I don't really see how that makes a difference. Should I be losing my lunch over it or something?"

Headwig nodded in agreement, giving Harry the "are you stupid" look.

"Oh, come on! You can't seriously say that that was normal!"

Hermione shrugged. "Like I said, it's all part of the cycle of life. Predators eat prey. It's not like I decided how the world-"

There was a wet splat.

Every remaining occupant of the table recoiled in horror. Well, almost every remaining occupant. Hermione, a piece of toast still hanging from her mouth, decided that wasn't going quite far enough. Headwig just barely managed to disembark before the witch keeled over and released a rainbow onto the floor.

"That is not natural," gagged Neville

"Hey, guys. What's up?" Ron asked as he dropped into the seat next to Hermione.

Still coughing, she snapped, "Ronald, get that… thing off the table!"

"What? Why? It's my familiar."

The familiar was even worse up close. Its long, thick fur was soggy and glistened like an oil slick in the morning light. Patches of it were overgrown by a long, green moss that swayed gently in the breeze. The fur almost completely covered eyes that peered out pitifully, as if asking for a merciful death. It was hard to tell if it had legs, but its long tail slid back and forth across the table, making a slight squishing sound each time it did. The slimy trail it left glimmered in a way that was almost pleasant.

"That… that should not be near our food, Ronald. Please remove it," King requested. From his lap, Lady firmly nodded in agreement. She raised an arm menacingly, water flowing up it to form a large sledgehammer.

"That… that should not be near our us, Ronald. Please make it go away," George corrected. "If you don't get rid of it I'll ask Kitten how far she can throw it."

"No way! You know kitties clean up by licking, right? I"m not touching that!" Angel said.

"There's something wrong with you guys. Oh, cool. Toast." Ron leaned forward and snatched the food off the table, jamming nearly the whole thing in his mouth. After a moment he paused, a confused look on his face. "Hey, does this jam taste weird?"

Another rainbow hit the floor, courtesy of Hermione.

"Is there something wrong with her? Because that's really gross. You shouldn't even come to breakfast if you're just gonna throw up everywhere," Ron said in disgust, bits of half-chewed toast and blobs of "jam" falling from his mouth. Shaking his head, he reached for the last pieces of bacon on the serving platter.

There was a white flash. A few drops of blood flew into the the air. Ron jerked his hand back with a hiss, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Headwig was standing between him and the bacon.

"What the heck is wrong with you!?" Ron demanded.

George laughed out loud. "I think she's saying that's Hermione's bacon, my dear little brother."

"No, that's my bacon," Ron declared. "Move it."

Headwig chirped angrily.

"Move or I'll move you myself!"

Headwig chirped again. For some reason, Harry got the distinct impression it was the owl equivalent of screaming, "Come at me, bro!"

Ron hit the table in annoyance and reached out. "Fine, you stupid little-"

His back slammed into the stone floor hard enough to drive every last gasp of air out of his lungs. He stared in horror and disbelief at the tiny owl now perched on his nose. She had her head cocked so she could stare down at him with wide, dark eyes. Her glare bored straight through him. It was like an enormous pressure was pressing down on him, making it difficult to even catch his breath.

Without taking her eyes off him, the owl slowly drew a wing across her neck. The wordless message was quite clearly conveyed: Mess with me and you'll be on your knees faster than a sorority girl at a frat party.

"Right," Ron squeaked. "Gotcha."

Headwig gave him another menacing squeeze, then launched off his nose. Ron clambered to his feet, desperately trying to look like he didn't just get his ass handed to him by a one ounce bird.

Rounding the table, he dropped into the empty seat next to Harry and began angrily stroking his familiar. A nasty sound was produced each time he raked his hand through its fur. "What the heck are you thinking, bringing a crazy bird like that to breakfast. Your familiar's nuts!"

"First of all, she's not my familiar. She's my friend," Hermione stiffly corrected him. She smiled as she held a strip of bacon up. Headwig quickly hopped down her arm and began tearing chunks off, head turned to look at Ron the whole time. "Second of all, you don't really have the right to criticize my dining habits. Not after tossing that thing on the table."

"It's my familiar!" Ron shouted.

"It is also clearly not clean. Ri and Ru are clean. I don't have a problem with them being on the table. Angel, when she's not covered in blood, is clean. I wouldn't have a problem with her being on the table. That is quite obviously not clean."

"Now, now, let's all calm down," George interrupted. He slid Harry's plate towards Ron with a disarming smile. "Here, little brother. Have Harry's toast. I don't think he was going to eat it, anyway."

Ron lifted his hand off his familiar with a unpleasant sucking sound. Drops of thick, semi-opaque liquid dribbled onto the table. Scowling, he grabbed the offered toast and rammed it into his mouth. A thick strand of fluid stretched between his fingers and food hole as he withdrew his hand.

Hermione decided to taste the rainbow again.

"Wow. How much did she eat?" George asked.

Ron paused in licking his fingers to glare and say, "That's really disgusting."

"I thought you had a strong stomach, Hermione," George remarked.

Hermione sat back up and wiped her mouth with a piece of toast. "I told you, a cat eating a bird is perfectly natural. That and that," she pointed first at the rat, then at Ron, "are far from natural."

Flatware rattled as Ron hit the table. "What the heck is wrong with you? You've been a jerk ever since I sat down!"

"I happen to find you rude and disgusting, and it's not just this morning, either. You were very unpleasant both after the summoning and last night. They should have left you plastered to the ceiling," Hermione sniffed. "I have had less than two days, and you are already one of the least likeable people I've ever met."

"I'm not likable? Well, you know what? At least I have friends!" he shouted, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry stared at the gelatinous fluid running off the boy's hand and onto his new robes. He looked up at Hermione's upset face and King's disapproving expression. Sitting on the same side as him, Neville had gone quiet and was trying to ignore the situation. Judging by the thorns poking out of her skin, this annoyed Orchid to a potentially unsafe degree. George, sitting right next to him, was just giving him a slightly curious look, as if wondering what he would do.

What was it the twins had said? Something about not letting people give you a hard time just because you wanted to be a nice person?

Harry frowned. "Angel," he intoned decisively.

An arm slipped around Ron's shoulder, causing him to stiffen in shock.

"Hi~. I'm Angel!" the familiar said with a friendly smile.

"I- I know... "

"Oh? That's nice," she said happily. She pointed down the table towards where Fred and the foxes were sitting. "You should go eat over there."

"I don't-"

The cat leaned over until her lips were a hair's breadth away from his ear. "You should go eat over there…" she whispered softly.

Ron went pale. With a frightened squeak he scrambled out of his chair, nearly tipping himself to the floor in his haste to leave. With a frown, Angel grabbed his plate, slid the edge under his "rat" and flipped it through the air. An instant later, they were treated to a horrified scream from Fred.

Angel smiled brilliantly and said, "Oops. Guess he shoulda been sitting over here."

"What the heck did you say to him?" George asked with wide eyes.

Angel put a nail to her lips pensively. "Uh… I asked nicely? I'm good at asking nicely!" she answered. She pulled her finger back and studied her nail. Her tongue flicked out and traced the sharpened edge. "Mmm… birdie."

"Huh. I should really consider asking nicely more… often…" George trailed off. "Uh, oops?"

"Yes, I think 'oops' would be appropriate.," Professor McGonagall's very unamused voice came from behind Harry. "Though, it may not be nearly strong enough."

"Err… I don't suppose you'd believe another hot, redheaded cat hybrid did it?" George asked hopefully.

McGonagall stared down at Angel.

The vines that made up her top were squirming, thin tendrils climbing her chest to snatch and devour the bits of "strawberry" scattered across her chest. They were disposing of the evidence very efficiently, but they weren't quite quick enough. Angel giggled and squirmed slightly as they wound up her neck in an attempt to get what little "jam" the toast had failed to remove.

George coughed into his and. "Yeah, that's kind of a hard sell, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Mr. Potter and Ms. Angel will be coming with me. I assume I can trust the rest of you to behave yourselves for the remainder of the meal," she stated in a tone that basically screamed, "That better be a safe assumption."

The table's residents hastily nodded.

"Good. Come along then. I believe we have a matter to discuss."

Harry's erstwhile dining partners watched him leave the dining hall on McGonagall's heels.

"So… uh.. Wow," George muttered suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I do believe that my interpretation of the word 'disturbing' has been forever altered by this meal," King announced. "I feel it goes without saying that it was not for the better."

There were several nods from around the table.

"I hate to say it, but at least the rest of us aren't getting in trouble," Fred said.

George stared across the table. The chair there had, at some point, decided its Fred quota had to be fulfilled. Said Fred was staring back, his innocent gaze matched by the foxes sitting on either shoulder.

"What the heck do you think you're doing here!?" George demanded.

Fred gave him a puzzled look and held up a piece of bacon. "Eating breakfast. It is breakfast, after all, so it would be kind of weird if I wasn't."

The foxes nodded in agreement.

"Oh, no. No way. You three don't get to sit here! You sit over there. You sit with the disappointments and traitors!" George snapped, pointing back the way Fred had come.

One end of the Gryffindor table had already been vacant due to their housemates' fear of King. Normally this wouldn't have been a issue, given that the table was more than large enough to accommodate the full house.

Unfortunately, Ron's forced relocation had caused another problem to arise. Put simply, no one wanted to be anywhere near the supposed rat. This had caused another mass migration, pushing the disgusted students even further down the table. The end result was that over half the Gryffindor table had become a desolate wasteland.

The students had packed their chairs as close together as possible, but there was only so much room. People were actually standing up and leaning over their housemates to eat. Some had decided to cut out the middleman and find a willing lap to occupy, while others were on the floor with their plates balanced on their legs

Fred stared first at the jam-packed section, then at the empty area surrounding Ron.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I shall visit upon you countless unspeakable torments, tearing at your mind and feasting upon your soul until you are naught but an empty husk, devoid of warmth and life. Your torment shall be an offering to the faceless legion, their presence in this world growing stronger with every scream torn from your pathetic lips," George uttered in a raspy voice. His gaze was fixed on his brother with frightening intensity, his pupils dilated so far that it looked like each eye was filled by a bottomless abyss.

Fred took an involuntary step back.

"Uh, right… I'll just… go sit with Ron, then…" he stammered. Never taking his eyes off his brother, he slowly backed down the table.

George surveyed the table, his eyes once again normal. Around him, his friends and housemates were staring at him in disbelief and horror. Even Orchid, the man-eating terror plant, was looking at him through wide eyes. After considering for a moment, he looked down at his plate with a frown.

"Whoa, I felt weird for a second there. Maybe I do have some sort of egg allergy…" he mused.

"An allergy!? That is not how allergies work, George," Hermione asserted. At least, that was probably her intention. The statement was severely lacking in impact, given that it came out as more of a frightened whimper.

George frowned and nodded. "Yeah, that does sound pretty silly. Good thing, too, because I really like 'em. But allergies don't usually make you all dizzy, right? So I'm in the clear." he agreed, munching on a forkful of eggs.

"Nor do they make you threaten to sacrifice your own brother in order to call forth a legion of dark gods," King agreed unsteadily.

"Wait, what? Dark gods?" George asked, giving him a very confused look. "That's kind of a weird thing to bring up at breakfast, King. You might want to start with a comment about the weather instead."  
"You brought it up, Red. You quite clearly stated your intention to unleash 'countless unspeakable torments' upon your brother in the name of the 'faceless legion' naught but a moment ago."

"What the heck are you talking about?" George demanded with an affronted look. "There's something seriously wrong with you this morning, King. I just told him I would rip his heart from his frail mortal form and feast upon before his eyes, ensuring it is the last thing he sees before his vision goes dark for all eternity. I don't know how you got that messed-up dark god stuff out of that."

Hermione lunged across the table and grabbed George's plate, yanking it away from him.

"Hey! What're you doing? I wasn't done with that!" the redhead protested.

"Yes, you were."

"No, I was-"

The girl raised one hand to point at him. Headwig immediately fluttered down to land on it. The tiny owl fixed him with a baleful glare.

"Yes. You. Were. Don't make me use this," Hermione threatened.

George stared at the small owl for a moment, then looked down at his plateful of eggs. He looked back up at the owl and carefully considered his options. As if to help him make the right choice, Headwig spread her wings slightly and tensed her body.

"You know what? I think I was getting pretty full there. Couldn't fit in another egg," George decided.

Hermione raised her hand, prompting Headwig to return to her shoulder. "Good choice. Once my owl is drawn, she must taste blood," Hermione declared. She gave the bird a rub on the head. "Isn't that right, my pretty girl?"

The owl chirped agreeably.

"Jeez. This isn't some cheesy samurai movie, you know," George sighed.

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "You know what a-"

The rest of the question went unasked, cut off by Neville's startled cry. A small object, just having ricocheted off his skull, slammed into his plate. The table was once again subjected to a spray of assorted breakfast foods.

George stared at the paper-wrapped package in surprise, then looked up. A large, brown barn owl was hovering above them. He could swear the thing had a smug look on its face.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

The bird gave a derisive hoot and turned to fly away.

The Weasley said something that probably shouldn't be reproduce in writing, then joined the others in examining the owl's improvised projectile.

Orchid, on the other hand, was concerned with something else entirely. She quickly glanced over, confirming that everyone else was busy trying to figure out what the filthy creature had hit her Keeper with. Seeing that they were all occupied, she quickly raised an arm.

The appendage split slightly, allowing a thin vine to emerge. The bit of greenery shot out like a bullet, crossing the hall in an instant. The departing owl didn't even have time to hoot in surprise before it was snatched out of the air. Orchid's arm peeled open into three parts, forming a nightmarish maw lined with tooth-like thorns. The bird finally managed a squawk as it was reeled in, but the noise was lost as her appendage closed with a satisfying crunch.

"Did you just hear something?" King asked, looking up and down the table.

Orchid smiled sweetly, tilted her head, and gave him her best "I'm just a plant and I don't understand" look.

"I hear a lot of things, King," George sighed. "Man, this place is getting out of control. Considering I'm the one saying that, there's something seriously wrong going on.. You okay, Lord Nev?"

"Yeah. It didn't hit that hard," Neville muttered. He gingerly prodded the new sore spot on his jaw. "What the heck just happened?"

"It appears a mail owl just struck you with a small package," King responded.

"Door-to-face deliveries. Great customer service. It'd make me pretty happy if that little bastard got what was coming to him," George declared.

Orchid smiled happily. Helping people felt much nicer than she would have thought. It wasn't quite as nice as eating them, but might, but might serve as an acceptable second choice.

"Oh, by the way. It's for you," George declared, holding the filthy package by a string. "Congratulations, Lord Nev. You're the proud owner of whatever the heck this is. I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than getting pegged with someone else's package, but whatever."

Neville stared at the filthy package. He could just barely make out his grandmother's name beneath the chunks of egg and pancake.

"Uh… Orchid?"

A thorny vine lashed out, instantly turning the brown paper into ragged shreds. A clear sphere fell to the table with a thud.

"Seriously?" George asked. "A Remembrall?"

* * *

The cavern was vast, its walls composed of various shades of grey rock. Long, thick stalagmites hung from the ceiling. Light flickered across the stone as hundreds of tiny flames danced on their candles. Three tiers of stone shelves jutted out, extending into the air high above the floor.

The shelves were occupied by figures in dark robes. Dozens of them were there, looming ominously in a way that only a figure in a dark robe can manage.

"Is the gathering complete?" one asked.

Another voice answered, "No seat remains unfilled."

"Have the oaths been taken?" a third queried.

"The sacred pacts have been sealed."

"Is there any voice within the sacred cavern that denies this gathering's right to proceed?"

There was silence.

A single figure shuffled forward to the edge of the highest shelve. With a shake of his head, he allowed his hood to fall back. Whiskers popped out, no longer restrained by the stifling cloth. As if this was a previously arranged signal, hoods were removed all around the cavern.

Dozens of striped cats occupied the space. Their colors varied wildly, but they were all approximately the same shape. They looked back and forth, silently acknowledging the others that made up the group.

One of them cleared his throat.

"For the benefit of myself, I shall recite the sacred rules. Should I not understand, I shall speak up immediately, for I shall receive no leniency should I act in a manner that is unacceptable to myself. Do I understand?"

"I understand," the others intoned.

"Excellent. Listen and hear the divine instructions forged by our forefathers. Firstly, I shall look directly at myself. Second, should I look away from myself, I have accepted my defeat. Third, I am permitted to silently judge myself. Finally, I shall not complain if I am found wanting. Do I understand?"

"I understand."

"Very well. Let the two hundred and fifty-three thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seventh quarterly cheshire staring tournament begin. I wish myself good luck and a firm resolve, for I will surely emerge victorious.

* * *

"You let your familiar eat a mail owl," McGonagall blandly observed.

Harry's eyes swept her office as he tried to look any but at her. He was interested to note that her four bookshelves had 271, 293, 307, and 227 books respectively. He couldn't help but wonder if it was coincidence that they were all prime numbers.

"I, uh, didn't exactly let her eat a mail owl…"

The professor's gaze shifted to Angel. "Did your master say that you could eat a mail owl?"

"Yes!" Angel cheerfully responded. "It was really good!"

Harry buried his face in his hands. "It was an accident…" he groaned.

"Wait, was I supposed to lie? Because I can do that! I once told someone they were drinking Golden Fields Ale, but they were really drinking West Kingdom Ale!" Angel giggled. "It was re~ally funny, but for some reason no one else laughed…"

"Other considerations aside, you have inflicted notable emotional trauma on a significant portion of Ravenclaw house. No one wants to see an owl's head brutally torn off during breakfast, let alone the shower of gore that follows."

Harry turned to stare at Angel.

"What? That's how you get to the good stuff. No one wants to eat a head…"

"I will regretfully be taking fifty points from Gryffindor. I will also be providing you with a complete list of those that witnessed your familiar's… meal. You will be personally writing an apology letter to each and every one of them," McGonagall said sternly. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You should be thankful that the owl was already dead when your familiar decided to dine on it," she added. "Harming a living mail owl would have resulted in considerably worse consequences."

"Uh… that's a relief."

"Honestly, what in the world possessed it to fly straight into the wall? And that scream… I've never seen one malfunction in that manner before."

"Yeah… weird…"

"Regardless, there will be no more eating of mail owls, functioning or not," McGonagall said sternly.

Angel pouted. "But… but… you should understand! You're a kitty too! I heard!"

The comment was met with a frown. "Child, eating a dead owl off the floor makes you little better than a scavenger. Have some pride. Or are you under the impression you're some manner of wild dog?"

"I'm not a dog!" Angel protested.

"Then act like a cat." McGonagall ordered. "Next time you want to eat an owl, go outside and find one. They're much more satisfying that those nasty artificial things."

Angel snapped into a salute. "Yes ma'am!" she shouted.

A disbelieving stare was Harry's only response.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow and asked, "Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh… you haven't actually… uh…" Harry shakily muttered. "You haven't…"

"Haven't what, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing!" he squeaked. "Nevermind!"

McGonagall nodded. "Good. We shall consider this matter resolved. In the future, be more mindful of the commands you give your familiar."

"Sorry… I was really distracted. Other than my Hogwarts letters, I've never gotten mail before," Harry explained.

"You've never received mail?" McGonagall repeated. "Not even once?"

"Um… not really, no."

"Interesting. As I understand, muggles rarely use parchment to communicate these days. Something about sea-mail, was it? I don't really understand how that would be better..."

Angel gasped. "Were you an unlucky My Boy? Did all the courriers get eaten?"

"What?" Harry asked, a confused look on his face.

Angel pursed her lips. "They all wanna go so~ fast, but sometimes people don't take the short road for a reason," Angel nodded sagely. "You should always know where you're going, and make sure you'll be on the right side of the eating."

Harry stared at her and slowly said, "You… came from a very strange place, didn't you?"

"Hm… Thinking that is good."

"Huh? Why?"

"People who think that place is normal, they're usually not very nice. Some of them are even mean," Angel confided in a whisper. "It makes me glad I'm a kitty. All~ that matters is food. Oh, and not getting eaten. Eating other things is always better than other things eating you."

"I could certainly see that being the case," McGonagall agreed.

All Harry could think of to say on the subject was, "Uh, yeah…"

"Yup! All we need is food and not being food,' Angel happily announced. She pursed her lips and laid a nail against them, a thoughtful look on her face. "Oh, and attention. We need that lots of that. A warm place, too. Near a fire or in a lap will work. We need treats too. They're not the same as normal food, so don't even try to fool us. Oh, and we need someone to comb our fur and keep it pretty, then tell us how pretty we are. That's really important. Crunchy things are good, and so are toys. We need lots and lots of toys, even though we hardly ever play with them. And cheeseburgers. That one's kind of weird, because I don't think we had those in the other place. I don't even really know what it is, but I need it."

McGonagall and Harry stared at her.

"See? We hardly need anything at all!"

The deputy headmistress cleared her throat. "Well, Mr. Potter, it would seem you have your work cut out for you," she paused, rifling around in one of her desk drawers. After a moment she withdrew a sheaf of parchment and held it out to Harry. "Perhaps this will ease your burden, if only a little."

Harry took and looked at it curiously. It was a stack of parchment squares, perhaps a dozen or so, secured together by loops of heavy twine along the left edge. The top sheet was emblazoned with a lurid illustration of a grinning man with an oversized head standing in front of a circus tent.

"Krazy Karl's Konsummate Kitten Karnival?" he read.

"There are a great many companies around the world provide necessities for familiars, both usual and unusual. I've found that one to be the best of the many aimed towards the care of feline companions."

"So wizards in other places have familiars?"

"Of course," McGonagall confirmed. "Merlin's gift applies to all that wield magic. There are a number of summoning circles all across the world."

"Oh, that makes sense, I guess…"

"This particular company, for example, normally caters to customers in the United States. As such, it can take a few days to get your order. You can be assured that it is quite worth the wait. The items are rather high quality, and sure to satisfy even the most demanding of cats."

There was a derisive snort from beneath the desk.

"Oh, be quiet," she ordered. "Should you need anything, simply fill out the form in back and attach it to a mail owl."

The pair stared at each other for several seconds.

"Should that prove difficult, perhaps one of your housemates would be willing to do it for you," McGonagall continued. "The headmaster, as executor of your estate, will have to-"

There was a horrified gasp.

"You execute people?" Angel demanded. She was on her feet in a flash, leaning protectively over Harry. One hand was resting on his shoulder, the other was held out to one side with its fingers curled into claws. A threatening growl - a noise no human should be able to make - tore from her throat.

McGonagall was starting to wonder if she should stick a spare wand under her desk. Three familiars had very blatantly wanted to kill her in the past two days alone. It was a disturbing trend, and it was making her wonder if someone had put a curse on her office.

Maybe she should trade with Trelawney.

"An estate isn't a person, dear. It's things that you own."

Angel blinked, then stared at her in obvious confusion. Her body relaxed a little, but she didn't move away from Harry.

"Uh… like… books and things?"

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, like books and things. Lots of things, really."

"Why would you execute a book? Then again… Hermness said you executed a bunch of them yesterday. She wasn't happy at all." Angel muttered.

"An unfortunate necessity. Those books were a blight upon all of Transfiguration, and if I ever meet the author I will happily do the same to them," McGonagall practically growled. "And an executor does not normally execute books. It is simply someone who cares for someone else's properties."

"He doesn't execute people?"

"As far as I'm a aware, the last execution on Hogwarts grounds took place over a century ago," McGonagall stated. "And that was something of a special case."

"Wait, people have been executed here!?" Harry demanded.

"As I said, it was a bit of an exception. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team was all-female that year. I'm afraid they returned to their locker room in time to discover the current potions master… doing something very unpleasant to their underwear."

Harry gave her a puzzled look, while Angel stared at her in horror.

"Unfortunately, their housemates lynched the man before any other staff could intervene. The fact that two houses were rioting - Gryffindor apparently decided it was some kind of party - made it impossible to tell who was actually involved. The headmaster, being a fair woman, decided to forgo punishment other than a significant loss of house points."

"Woulda gave them points," Angel muttered, flopping back into her chair.

"Quite," McGonagall agreed. "There's always a lot of talk about a curse on the DADA course. I, personally, have always suspected there is one on the Potions course as well. All of our Potions professors seem to have various perversions and unnatural obsessions."

"Um… all of them?" Angel hesitantly asked.

"Collecting toenails, bribing house elves to bring them unwashed laundry, placing scrying spells in the prefect's bathroom, making disturbingly accurate sculptures of female students, keeping a notebook full of male… measurements, insisting witches eat bananas in a very sensual way before class… the list goes on and on, I'm afraid."

Gawked at her, mouths agape in horror.

"Uh, wow," Angel summed it up. "What kinda school is this? 'Cuz that's pretty messed up."

McGonagall sighed. "I'm afraid being a certified potions master opens the door to a wide variety of lucrative opportunities. Those willing to work for a professor's meager pay are those that have - for reasons that are frequently quite obvious - seen those doors slam shut."

"Professor Snape was acting a little… weird in class," Harry admitted. "And that was before the whole 'naked elephant' thing, too."

"I will tell you this in strict confidence, both because you are in an unique position and because you are a member of my house: you, in particular, are likely to have a great deal of trouble dealing with Professor Snape," McGonagall admitted, a great deal of distaste evident in her words. "It would be best to keep your head down and ensure your work is beyond reproach, as I have little control over what happens in his class."

Harry nodded silently.

It figured that the one subject he had been looking forward to the most would be ruined by something like this. That seemed to be the way it always went.

"Good. Now then, breakfast should be about over. I believe your first flying lesson is next. You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"

Harry shook his head enthusiastically.

"Then hurry along. It wouldn't do to be late. And perhaps it would be wise to open the letter that so captivated your interest on your way."

There was another nod. With all the talk of executions and perverted teachers, he'd completely forgotten about the envelope held in his hands. Holding it carefully, he quickly vacated his seat and headed for the door, Angel hot on his heels.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?" McGonagall called, causing him to pause. "I recommend the Salmon Delights. They are absolutely delectable."

"Uh… right…"

* * *

Author's Note:

So, this was my first attempt to write a chapter with a little less crack and random weirdness. I'm honestly not sure how well that played out. The owl* thinig in particular kind of got out of control. I did get a couple of plot elements in, but they're fairly minor and probably not noticeable if you don't already know where things are going.

As far as the "~" thing goes, it is sometimes informally used in exactly the way I'm using it here. It's by no means an official use, but this isn't an official story. Why am I using it? Mainly because I don't like how words look when I mash the "o" key a dozen times. It's particularly relevant because Angel talks in a bubbly, cutesy way and frequently draws out syllables.

As a side note, I'd really appreciate it if you took a moment to drop me a review. I'd like your impressions, especially now that the tone of the story is shifting. Whether you love the story or hate it, your feedback is an invaluable thing.

Anyway, you can expect the next chapter in the near future. I've actually already finished it, but still need to go over it a few times. You'll get to see what happens when spirits get a little too friendly, Slytherins that aren't assholes and a shiny new familiar. We'll also learn why it's important to keep your shaft under control and your balls in hand.

I'm hoping it'll be up in a week or less, but I make no promises.

*No owls were harmed** during the writing of this chapter.

**Unless you count the two that were brutally killed*** and eaten.

***That was probably painful AF.


	12. Grab that Shaft and Get Wet

Something Familiar

Chapter 12: "Grab that Shaft and Get Wet"

AKA: "Dirty Mouths and Dirty Minds"

* * *

Angel and Harry wandered down the hall towards his first flying lesson. Harry was barely watching where he was going, still completely engrossed by his first piece of mail. He really wanted to open it but, at the same time, he really didn't want to ruin the envelope. He was mired in a state of complete indecision as to what he should do.

Angel, on the other hand, was strolling along a little behind him and to his right. She was singing a quiet tune in a language that definitely didn't sound like English. Her right arm was held out to the side, allowing her to drag her nails through the stone wall. As expected, the left a line of deep slashes in the stone. She happily walked along, gouging a jagged path that roughly matched the notes of her song.

"Angel, could you-" Harry began, but quickly stopped as he turned to face Angel. "Uh, I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be doing that."

The familiar turned towards her boy and smiled. Without looking, she raised her hand. The suit of armor she was passing leaned backwards, just barely avoiding the fatal claws.

"It's okay, My Boy. The castle is really strong. She barely notices the little scratches," Angel giggled. "She'll be all better before we go to sleep."

"Uh, 'she?'"

"Of course, silly. Almost all castles are girls. Well, the ones that are awake, anyway. They keep people warm and safe, so it makes sense they'd be girls, right?" Angel reasoned.

"Like a mom?"

"Yeah, I guess… That's what moms are like, right?" Angel asked with a shrug.

Harry looked at her with obvious surprise. "Wait, you don't know?"

"Uh-uh. I never met my mom. I killed her when I was born," his familiar explained.

The sudden declaration caused Harry to stop short. The halt was so abrupt that Angel stumbled a few steps trying to match it. She turned, her confused look meeting her human's horrified stare. He looked back at her with panicked eyes, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say.

"What? Do I still have birdie on my face?" Angel asked in a clearly puzzled tone. She self-consciously licked the back of her and started wiping it across her cheek in a very cat-like manner. "Why is everything so yummy so messy…?"

"I'm sorry!" Harry suddenly blurted.

Angel frozen in mid-wipe and gazed upon him with wide, amazed eyes. "My Boy… you made birdies all squirty? That's really neat!"

"Uh… what?"

"I mean… I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be picky. They might be squirty, but they taste good! I couldn't even make a squirty birdie that _didn't_ taste good, so I shouldn't complain about yours..."

"Uh…"

"Ooh, did you make snakes, too? Lotsa those taste good. Some of them bite back, though, which isn't very fun. Next time you make a snake, could you make one that doesn't bite? Oh, unless the poisons tingle. Tingly poison is fun."

"Angel-"

"I don't like tentacley things, though. They make me feel all weird and icky, like they want to do things to me. The ones that are too big to do icky things are okay, though. They taste kind of chewy and stuff."

"I meant… I meant I was sorry for talking about something like that!" Harry broke in. "I- I didn't know you mother died…"

Angel looked at him with wide eyes, looking for all the world like she was on the verge of tears. "My Boy… My Boy?"

Harry braced himself. "Yeah?"

"You- you didn't make squirty birdies?" she stammered. There was an extremely betrayed tone to her voice.

"..." Harry gawked at her, mouth hanging open.

"That's very mean, My Boy. I- I wanted you to make me a tingly snake…" Angel whined. "I- I wanted a tingly snake with wings! Wings and legs, so it could walk around when it wasn't flying! And- and… three eyes! Because… uh… that'd be really cool!"

Harry continued to look at her like she was insane.

"You shouldn't say you can make wingy-tingly-snakes-with-three-eyes if you can't, My Boy! Hmpf!" she sniffed as she stomped and pointedly turned away from him. After a moment her posture softened again. She turned back towards him, a thoughtfully finger pressed against her pouting lips. "A horn woulda been nice, too…"

"It… doesn't bother you that you don't have a mother…?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Angel gave him a sad smile. "My Boy… my mother wasn't the kind of mother you'd want. Sometimes having nothing is better than having something."

Harry paused, faltering as he thought of the Dursley. Glancing awkwardly down at the floor, he ran a hand across his thigh. Staring at the stone as he was, he failed to notice Angel's expression become far less pleasant.

"You… you still shouldn't say that. You shouldn't say you killed her! Even… even if she wasn't a nice person. You were just a baby. Even if they- she died just because you were born, that doesn't make it your fault!"

Harry flinched slightly as Angel dropped a hand onto his head. She ruffled his hair a bit and smiled at him as he looked away from the floor.

"I think we're kinda different, My Boy," she announced, giving his head another pat. "My mom is gone because she made bad choices."

"We should go, My Boy. Don't you want to play with your broom?" Angel inquired. She dropped both hands to her waist and curled them like she was holding something. Smiling, she started jerking them up and down while bouncing a little.

Harry blushed. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't do that…"

"I- I can't ride a broom, either?" she asked with wide, hurt eyes. "First I can't have a wingy-tingly-snake-with-three-eyes-and-a-horn-and-tusks, and now I can't ride a broom?"

"...tusks?"

"For poking things. Wingy-tingly-snakes-with-three-eyes don't have fingers, so they need tusks to poke things with. Obviously."

"But that would make it pretty hard for the wingy-tingly… thing to eat." Harry pointed out.

Angel froze, a horrified look on her face as she stared at him in shock. "My- my snakey… Poor snakey will starve! What have I done…?" she whispered, dropping into a crouch and burying her face in her hands. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Um, it's okay…" Harry comforted. "He can just have a tongue like a giraffe. Giraffes can grab things with their tongues."

His familiar looked up at him hopefully. "Wingy-tingly-snake-with-three-eyes-and-a-horn-and-tusks-with-giraffe-tongue will be okay?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"Uh, giraffe tongues aren't like tentacles, are they? They're not naughty?"

"What? No, giraffe tongues are completely... Why are we talking about this again?" Harry inquired in a confused voice.

"Because you won't make me Super Snakey," Angel huffed.

Harry sighed. "It's not that I won't… I mean… it's sad that you can't fly a broom, but…" he trailed off, his eyes widening. "Flying class!"

Angel gave him a blank look.

"Flying class!" Harry unhelpfully clarified. He repeated Angel's earlier gesture with one hand.

"My Boy, I don't think you should do that. It looks very naughty," Angel scolded him.

"Just forget that! We're going to be late! The pitch is all the way on the other side of the castle, and class probably already started! I'm going to miss my first- Ack!" Harry squawked in protest as Angel easily picked him up and tucked him under on arm. "Angel! What're you doing!?"

"You should keep your mouth closed, My Boy. Tongues don't like getting bit," she advised.

Squirming in her grip, Harry demanded, "Put me down! What are- Gah!"

There was a violent lurch and the world became a blur as a wave of disorientation hit Harry. When he regained himself an instant later, he was a bit surprised to learn he was traveling down the hallway at a speed that definitely didn't qualify as safe. Angel held him close to her body as she rocketed across the stone floor with a look of extreme concentration on her face.

Harry's eyes widened. "Angel! Corner! Corner!"

Instead of slowing down to turn, the catgirl skipped towards the inside of the corner. She immediately bounced back and launched into the air. Harry gasped as she slammed into the wall feet-first. He didn't even have time to protest before she launched towards the other wall, hit it and actually managed to run across it for several steps. A suit of armor rattled in surprise as she passed just inches over its head.

Since he was expecting it, the second corner wasn't nearly as bad as the first. Having his face hurling uncontrollably towards a stone barrier was still a bit disconcerting, but he could deal with it. It was the long, straight section of hall they entered next that threw him off. Unbelievably, Angel actually _sped up_. The floor flashed by at unbelievable speeds, far closer than he was comfortable with.

Even as they approached the end of the corridor, his familiar showed no signs of slowing down. She just continued to barrel forward like the thick, rock wall wasn't there.

"Angel! You're going to-"

"Nope!" she cheerfully answered.

She launched into the air again, twisting and whirling Harry around her body. He found himself crushed tight to her chest, arms pinned between them, before he could protest. One of her feet caught his and forced his legs out straight.

Something brushed the back of Harry's head.

There was a sudden impact. Harry found himself tumbling end-over-end, Angel's body curled protectively around his. They managed several rotations before Angel regained her balance and slammed a hand down. The pair came to a screeching halt.

Harry suddenly found himself held princess-style by his familiar, standing amidst a group of _very_ surprised first-years.

"I'm sorry My Boy," Angel apologized, setting him on his feet. "I didn't want to hurt you, so I had to go a little slow."

"That was slow!?" Harry demanded.

"Harry!"

They boy turned to find Hermione and Neville rushing towards him, Orchid trailing along behind.

"Um, hi?"  
"Are you crazy!?" Hermione demanded. "You could've been hurt!"  
"Uh, what? I mean, it was a little uncomfortable, but…" Harry rubbed the back of his head in confusion.

Hermione wordlessly pointed back the way he'd come.

Turning, Harry stared in shock at the tiny window in the castle wall. "You're… kidding, right?"

Both his friend shook their heads.

"Oh… uh, I don't think she would have done that if I might've gotten hurt, though. I kind of get the feeling she's done that before," Harry defended his familiar.

The trio glanced over to the side, where Orchid had approached Angel.

"Hello, Pretty Flower," Angel greeted, patting the spirit on the head.

Orchid immediately unraveled, rapidly twining up Angel's arm and taking the place of the cat's current outfit. Angel giggled as the vines flexed around a bit before finally tightening against her skin.

 _Ground_.

"O~h. Plants don't fly, do they?" Angel observed. "That's okay, I'll stay down here too. I think My Boy wants to play with his broom alone. It's his first time."

…

Angel snickered. "Dirty Flower…" she scolded.

"Honestly, am I the only one with a normal familiar?" Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes.

Neville scratched his head. "Uh, Hermione… where _is_ your familiar?"

"I told you, didn't I? He left this morning for some 'very important cheshire ritual' or something. He said he'd be back tonight. Honestly, I had no idea cheshires were religious. Of course, I didn't know there were enough cheshires to have a religion."

"You didn't tell us that," Harry pointed out.

Neville added, "And there's only one cheshire, Hermione."

"Oh, don't you start with that nonsense, too! If you think-"  
"Gah! Stop wiggling! I don't care! You're a plant, how can you even _be_ comfortable!? Cut it out! Bad Flower, bad! The naughty bits _are_ covered, so stop squirming!" Angel ordered. Her eyes widened briefly, then she hit the ground squirming and giggling hysterically. "S- stop it! Y- you're doing t- that on purpose!"

Harry, Hermione and Neville, along with nearly all of the gathered first-years stared at the display.

"Um… do you think cuttens have any kind of religious holidays? Because it's been… kind of a long day…" Harry muttered.

Neville snorted. "I spent an hour talking to the color blue this morning, Harry," Neville declared. "It was actually kind of neat, but that might just be the poison talking…"

"Bad plant! _Bad plant_!" Angel yelled. She brought an open hand down on her chest, hard. The vines there quickly squirmed out of the way. Her right breast was exposed for a brief instant before her hand hit with a sharp crack. "Ack! Ouch…"

Hermione winced. "That's going to leave a mark…"

Angel quickly climbed to her feet and glared down at her outfit. "Are you done?"

 _Done._

"Good. Do that again, and I'll make you get off," Angel threatened.

 _Promise?_

The cat reddened slightly. "You are a _very_ dirty flower."

"What in the world are they talking about?" Hermione wondered.

Harry and Neville shrugged.

"We're just as far away as you are, and you're not making rainbows," Harry pointed out.

Neville shuddered as a half-repressed memory threatened to rear its ugly head. "It's… probably not anything we want to know about. Orchid seems kinda… weird… in… uh… ways…"

Hermione sighed, "Oh, very helpful. 'Weird in ways' doesn't exactly provide a lot of information, you know."

"The tongue thing?" Harry asked, looking at Neville curiously.

The boy nodded and confirmed, "The tongue thing."

"You mentioned that yesterday. _What_ tongue thing?" Hermione demanded.

Harry and Neville exchanged a glance and immediately squeaked, "Nothing!" together.

"I think I might be the only normal person in this castle…" the girl lamented.

Harry stared at her.

"What?"

The boy shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I just- Look! A cougar!"

There was a loud, frightened scream.

Harry looked down, a bit surprised to discover he was holding a surprisingly light classmate. "It must be nice being the only normal person in the castle."

"Oh, yes. Very funny. Would you kindly put me down?" Hermione muttered. Set back on her feet, she quickly brushed her robes off. Suddenly her head snapped up, one hand rising to point behind Harry. "Watch out! A tumb-"

That was as far as she got before Neville's hand slapped over her mouth. A surprisingly strong arm pinned her arms in place.

He looked down at the struggling, protesting girl apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he lamented. Despite the apology, he didn't release her or uncover her mouth. "You had a… Well, there was a very bad word on your lips. I thought it would be good to swat it before it got away."

Hermione stopped struggling and muttered something into Neville's hand.

"Uh, does that mean you'll be good if I let you go?"

She muttered again.

"She was either agreeing, or saying something impolite," Harry observed

There was another mutter. Both boys stared at her in shock.

"Ah, that was _definitely_ something _extremely_ impolite…"

Neville released Hermione, allowing her to step away from him.

"Honestly, all I said was, 'I understand, I was out of line.' What in the world are you two going on about?" Hermione demanded.

Harry gave her a skeptical look. "I'm pretty sure you said-"

"'I understand, I was out of line.'" Hermione stated firmly.

"Okay, fine. Anyway, what the heck was that all about?" Harry asked.

This time it was Hermione and Neville that exchanged a look.

"Nothing," they answered together.

Harry frowned at them. "I'm pretty sure you were-"

"Harry, look what my Gran sent me," Neville cut in. He held the Remembrall up in front of his friend. "It's shiny."

"Neville, I'm not Angel. You can't distract me with something shiny," Harry sighed. Nonetheless, he examined the sphere. The lump of crystal _was_ quite shiny. A faint red glow was swirling within it, shifting around in almost hypnotic patterns. "It _is_ pretty shiny, though. And I've never seen a rock that glows like that. What is it?"

His friends exchanged triumphant smirks. Neville happily tossed it to his friend..

"It's-"

"-completely useless," Hermione finished. "It tells you if you forgot something, but it doesn't tell you what you forgot. I have no idea why someone would waste their time making something like this."

"So it's a torture thingy?" Angel's arms slipped around Harry's neck and pulled him back against her. All he could do was thank his lucky stars he was facing away from her chest for once.

Neville frowned. "It's not a torture device. It's supposed to help."

"It tells you you forgot something, but it doesn't help," Angel pointed out, her intense gaze focused on the ball. Her tongue ran across her lips. "All it does is make you worry about what you forgot. It might not hurt you, but it still hurts you. It's a torture thingy."

Neville blinked. "Huh. I never really thought of that. It kind of makes sense," he agreed. Taking the ball back from Harry, he held it up and gave it an annoyed look. The ball almost seemed to glare back, its baleful red eye fixed on the boy. Frowning, he stuffed it back in his pocket.

It was at this point their instructor finally arrived. She rushed up to them across the pitch, a harried look on her face. The rough-looking woman quickly swept her gaze across them, grunting when she came up with the right number of students.

"Good, you're all here. Sorry about being late. Someone thought it would be amusing to leave an animated broom with a sticking spell on it in one of the closets. Took a while to chase Filch down and get him off the damn thing. For some reason the culprits signed their work, so those of you in Gryffindor will be disappointed to learn you just lost 100 points."

The trio exchanged glances.

"I thought they were kidding…" Neville whispered.

Harry groaned. "You wouldn't say that if you'd spent as much time with them as I have."

"Harry, you've only known them for two days," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, that was kind of my point…"

"We're running a little short on time because of that idiocy, so let's not waste it," Hooch barked. "Stand over your broom, hand out. Say, 'up', and make sure it's a clear order. Nice and firm."

" _Up_!" everyone ordered together.

Harry's broom shot off the ground, slapping into his hand so hard it almost hurt. He was one of the few to get a positive result. Neville's broom shook slightly and actually rolled away from him. Hermione's, on the other hand, spun around like a top and slammed into the back of her knees, dropping her to the ground.

It took several tries before the majority of the class managed to command their brooms to rise. Even then, Neville's hesitantly wiggled its way up to his hand rather than bouncing up like it should. That alone should have been a sign things weren't going to go well.

Despite the fact that several students were still having trouble, Hooch, short on both time and patience, plowed on.

The end result was fairly predictable. When it came time to hover above the ground, several students ended up on their faces instead. Neville was by far the worst, carried screaming thirty feet into the air by his out-of-control broom. The rogue vehicle bucked him off before vanishing into the sky.

Orchid's reaction was immediate. She surged off of Angel, moving as a wave of loose vines rather than taking the time to assume human form. She reached her destination before Neville had fallen even halfway to the ground. The creepers twisted together and erupted into a black flower. The bloom opened just in time to catch the falling wizard.

The vines and bloom crumbled, leaving behind Orchid's humanlike form. The girl looked down at the boy held in her arms, a relieved look on her face.

Hooch rushed up to the pair. "Is he alright?" she demanded.

The plant spirit looked up at the instructor, who immediately released a rainbow.

"The vomit spirit strikes again," Hermione muttered. "Thank heaven for that spell…"

Angel - a very naked Angel - walked up and examined Neville. She carefully prodded him in a few places with her closed hand, then leaned down and sniffed one of the red scratches on his face. Her tongue flicked out and quickly ran across the small wound.

"I don't smell blood, and all his bones still look all boney," she announced. "He should be okay. He's just a little poisoned."

"Poisoned!? Why the hell would he be poisoned!?" Hooch barked out. She immediately regretted the question as the answer resulted in another technicolor puddle.

"Flower said she makes poisons on accident, 'specially when she feels something a lot," Angel explained. She worked her tongue around her mouth a little. "It's okay, though. It's just something that makes you sleep and something that makes you not feel. It's probably 'cuz she was worried he'd hurt."

"I see," Hooch said with a relieved sigh. "We'd better get him to the Hospital Wing regardless. Let him sleep it off. I assume you can carry him?"

Orchid nodded.

"Good. Come with me. The rest of you wait here, and don't even think about touching those brooms. One finger on them and you'll be riding straight out of Hogwarts with a broom up your- Ah, just don't touch them!" Hooch ordered.

She quickly departed, Orchid walking briskly behind her. Half the class watched their faces concerned, amused or simply impassive depending on the person. The other half of the class was too occupied with openly staring at Angel to care.

"You can tell what a poison does by tasting it?" Hermione asked Angel incredulously.

The familiar nodded. "There were more poison plants than not-poison plants in the Other Place. It's good to know what tastes okay, what tastes bad and what'll give you the giggles," Angel explained. Looking around, she continued in a conspiratorial whisper, "The giggle-mushrooms are my favorite."

Mocking laughter interrupted them.

"What a moron! What kind of pureblood can't even ride broom? That's pathetic," Draco snickered, walking up to Harry and Hermione. "You sure know how to pick your friends, Potter. A moron and a mudblood."

"Neville is not a moron! Why don't you just shut up… uh…" Hermione glance to the side. Harry shrugged at her questioning look. "Uh… you…?" she finished lamely.

"You must be joking! How could you not know how I am!" Draco demanded. "What kind of idiots are you!?"

Harry smacked his fist into his palm. "Makeup!" he blurted out.

"Oh! The tart!' Hermione exclaimed in recognition.

"What!? You filthy mudblood, how dare you call me that!? I'm-"

"Mousie!" Angel happily exclaimed.

"-mousie!" Draco finished. "What? No! I mean, I'm heir to the house Malfoy, one of the most ancient and noble pureblood lines! One of the most powerful houses in the wizarding world! We're richer and better connected than almost anyone else! I'm Draco Malfoy! How could you not know that!?"

Harry stared at him, a blank look on his face. "Uh, okay. That's nice… I guess…"

"Don't be mean, My Boy. Mousie just wants to play," Angel announced, grinning and leaning forward. "Don't you, mousie?"

Draco reflexively took a step backward before he caught himself.

"Ha. You think you can intimidate me? You can't even touch me. But if you want to play a game, that's just fine with me," Draco smirked, holding up Neville's Remembrall. "Why don't we play with this?"

Harry glared at him. "Hey, that's Neville's! Give that back… uh…"

"Draco!" Draco snapped. "I _just_ said that. How could you possibly have forgotten?"

"Sorry, I kind of zoned out when you started talking," Harry admitted.

Draco looked at hmi with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"What? It was really boring!" blurted Harry, looking to Hermione for confirmation.

The girl looked up from where she was cooing to Headwig, rubbing the bird against her cheek and tickling her head. "What? What was boring?"

"Wha… how could you… I was talking!" Draco whined.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, you should really listen when people are talking to you. It's very rude to just ignore Drico like that," she chided.

"Are you kidding? You didn't even notice Drico opened his mouth!" Harry accused.

"I did too," Hermione announce primly. "I heard every word Drico said."

"Draco!" the affronted boy screamed.

Hermione shrugged. "Sure. That too," she said dismissively. "You know, I think you might have some sort of hostility complex. You might want to look into that."

"How dare you! You're just a filthy mudblood! You think you can mock me like that and get away with it!?" Draco shouted.

Hermione stared at him for a second, then sidled up to Harry and nudged him in the ribs. "Harry, he calls me a 'mudblood' every time he talks. What's a mudblood?" she asked in a loud whisper, genuinely confused.

"How the heck would I know? Maybe we should ask Neville," Harry whispered back. "I mean, I think it's a wizard thing. An insult? It might be an insult. I think he's using it like one."

"What, really? That's not a very good insult. I mean, it kind of sounds like a bad thing, but it… lacks impact."

"Are you trying to make me look like fool you… you…" Draco stuttered.

Hermione helpfully finished, "Mudblood?"

"I-"

"Honestly, if you're going to insult someone, put some some effort into it," Hermione scolded. "If you can't do that, stop wasting my air, you pathetic waste of skin. You're such a disgusting affront to humanity that I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. If I saw you bleeding to death in a ditch, I'd sit down and watch. I could say you're a perfect example of why cousins shouldn't marry, but I'm pretty sure it was more of a brother-sister sort of thing. Every time I look at you I throw up in my mouth a little and thank god, because the best thing I get out of seeing your face."

The assembled student stared at Hermione in shock.

"What?" she said defensively. "My dad was in the navy."

"I- I- I have your ball!" Draco shrilled, holding up the Remembrall.

Hermione snorted. "Good for you. You're up to one."

"Holy shit," Harry muttered without thinking.

Hermione turned to glare at him. "Harry! You shouldn't talk like that!"'

"You're kidding, right?"

Whatever Hermione's response was, it was drowned out by Angel's sudden shriek. The redhead leapt forward and spun around, head whipping back and forth as she searched the area.

Harry gave her a puzzled look. "Angel, what's wrong with you?"  
"My Boy! Something just touched my-" the familiar suddenly went silent and stiffened.

Slim fingers ran up her sides and across her abs. A pair of hands pressed against her chest, just beneath her breasts.

"Oh, my…" a feminine voice breathed from behind her. "Verily there is naught to be loved more than beauty, and ye be worthy of much love indeed."

Angel froze up, a panicked look on her face.

"Meseems my Pretty One acts most foolishly. 'Tis a temper that makes him somedeal ugly within. Might I behold thine beauty 'till his returns?"

The hands ran back down her sides and across her hips, prompting Angel to pull free with a panicked squeal. She quickly darted to Harry's side and whiled around to face her assailant with a cry of, "You do that with your _eyes_!"

The carbon-copy of Draco stared with stars in her eyes. Grey eyes ran up and down her body, following every curve with great interest.

"Ah," she sighed. "Thou art truly a masterpiece, a temple to comeliness itself…"

"Divinity! What do you think you're doing?" Draco demanded.

Hermione snickered. "Divinity?"  
"Thy temper befouls thy beauty, my Pretty One. Thy bellows awakened me from a dream most fair. 'Tis quite the fortune to find loveliness surpassing that which I beheld there," Divinity exulted. She took a step towards Angel, causing the girl to squeak again and step back. "Methinks 'twould be a waste to leave it unadmired."

Angel ducked behind Harry. It was a bit unclear as to whether she did so to hide her naked body or use him as a physical barrier. "That's okay, really! I'm alright with being unadmired! I'm really, really alright with it!"

Divinity's form popped like a burst bubble, her body becoming a fine silver mist. Angel eyed the shining particles suspiciously as they drifted to the ground. She was so preoccupied with the glittering motes that she failed to notice a small speck of light darting around behind her.

She figured it out pretty quickly, though.

The redhead let out another surprised cry. She leapt forward and physically hauled Harry about. The hapless boy found himself dangling from her hand by his collar, serving as a shield to ward off a very happy fey. His familiar's other hand was held protectively over her lower cheeks.

"Why is everyone doing that today?" she whined.

"Ah, soft flesh with nary a match. Beauty for which one's desire shall never be sated…" Divinity softly exhaled.

"No! Sated! Sated now!" Angel protested. She held Harry higher off the ground, thrusting him forward like he was some manner of menacing weapon. "Bo~y! Save me!"

"Ack!" Harry protested.

"Divinity, what is wrong with you!? She attacked me!" Draco snapped. "You're not supposed to _like_ her! She's a dirty animal!"

"I know whereof you speak, my Pretty One, but was not thy beauty unmarred? Such a paltry act is quite meaningless. 'Tis alow my notice, and far too petty to beget a grudge betwixt us," Divinity announced, making a broad, dismissive gesture. She took a step towards Angel, opening her arms. "Come hither, fair one. Show me thy feminal form."

"No hither! We're betwixt! Very, very betwixt!" Angel insisted, taking a step back. "Betwixt the grudges! Betwixt _all_ the grudges!"

"Nay. Between beings so lovely, such concerns mean naught. Come, allow me to adore thee."

Angel stared at her in horror. Without warning, she swung Harry to the side and pointed him at the furious Draco. "I'll marr him! I'll marr him, I swear! I'll do it! I'm crazy!" Angel shouted in a panic.

Divinity responded with something that looked suspiciously like a smug smile. "By ye cannot. 'Tis forbidden, is it not?"

"Uh…I..." Angel stammered. She paused, eyes widening as she realized moving Harry out of the line of fire might not have been the best idea.

Unfortunately, it was Divinity's hands closing on very sensitive parts of her upper body that sparked this particular revelation. The unexpected contact elicited another scream. Harry's butt hit the ground - still preferable to suffering another bout of oxygen deprivation - as Angel leaped away.

She spun through the air and skidded to a stop on three limbs, her other arm raised in a threatening gesture. A nasty hiss escaped her as she stared Divinity down. A moment later a small, white owl landed on her head. Headwig fixed the fey with another angry glare and gave a menacing hoot.

Angel paused, her hiss dying out. "Uh, I don't think you can actually do that…" she said reluctantly.

There was another, more curious hoot.

"Well, because I'm pretty sure she doesn't have that much blood."

Hoot.

"Oh! A _bird_ bath! I guess that makes more sense."

Harry and Hermione stared uncertainly at the pair, neither of them really sure what to say to that. Divinity, meanwhile, was staring down at her hands, opening and closing them slowly.

"Ah, 'tis enow to engender some small measure of envy…" Divinity sighed and looked up, finally noticing Angel's hostile stance. A confused look came across her face. "I… I do not understand. Dost thou not wish my admiration?"

Angel hissed at her again, tapering off when Headwig hooted again.

"I'm… not even sure she has that many organs."

Hoot?

"Yeah, I could cut them up. I'm pretty sure all the pieces still count as one, though."

Hoot…

"Uh, Hermione? I think there might be something wrong with your owl…" Harry muttered.

Hermione smiled sweetly at ther bird. "Isn't she cute?"

"..."

"Ah! I act as a fool!" Divinity suddenly announced. "Ye must think me a blackguard! I ask thou to commend thy beauty to me, yet I do not offer my own. Abandon thy concern, for I shall be most fain to do so."

To the shock of the gathered students, Divinity immediately began stripping. She quickly shrugged off her robes, stripped away her sweater and unbuttoned her shirt. Her pants hit the ground, and her hands had moved back to her waist before anyone had the presence of mind to act.

"Stop!" Draco shouted. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrists, preventing her from removing the garment. "Stop it right now! What do you think you're doing!?"

His familiar gave him an annoyed look. "What right doth thy mouth have to dispraise my hands? 'Tis a lovely form. Wherefore are ye afeard?"

"You can't just do that! That's _my_ body!" Draco snapped.

"Nay, Pretty One, 'tis _our_ body, and 'tis not even the full measure we share," Divinity chastised.

Draco growled, "It doesn't matter! It's…" The words died in his mouth as he realized he was suddenly the center of attention. Looking around, he saw every other student - both Slytherin and Gryffindor - looking at him with amusement, contempt and horror. "What…?"

As one, his classmates shifted their gazes to Divinity.

Draco took a step back and actually looked at his familiar. The girl was wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt over her underwear. The sides of the shirt were hanging wide open, the gap between them more that wide enough to expose the wide strip of pink lace wound around her upper chest. Down below, her fingers were hooked around a pair of dainty painties made of a similar fabric.

Again, as one, they turned their attention back to Draco. There were a few scattered snickers.

"Pink, Draco?" Daphne's bland voice asked. "I would expect the scion of house Malfoy to have better taste."

"He did arrive wearing quite cheap makeup, Daph. One of the lesser lines, barely worth the time of using but still quite profitable," the boy standing next to her noted. His darker skin and hair made him strike quite the contrast against his pale, blond companion. He leaned forward and examined Divinity's 'bra' carefully, absently continuing, "That seems to indicate his sense in fashion isn't worth much. The familiar, on the other hand… There may very well be a market for that…"

Daphne sighed. "Blaise…"

"Tell me… Divinity? Is that garment easily removable?" he asked without looking away from the lace.

"Quite!" Divinity answered happily. "Would ye like to see?"

"That's enough, Blaise," Daphne sighed again. "It's impolite to stare."

Blaise held up a hand in protest. "Just a moment, Daph. I haven't quite memorized the pattern. There's little worth in an incomplete product. Anyway, she seems to enjoy it and something tells me Draco wouldn't see the value of letting me study his later. Actually, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to. So this is quite beneficial to all involved. Except Draco."

"I assume you realize you shouldn't draw attention to the fact that he wears girl's underwear. It's not very nice to judge other's hobbies."

"There's no place for such pointless biases in business. Actually, it just occured to me that this could be an untapped and quite lucrative market. Standard female underwear can't be comfortable," Blaise reasoned. He looked up at the other Slytherin and asked curiously, "Would you pay a premium for underwear that was less restrictive, Draco?"

" _I do not wear girls' underwear_." Draco wailed. "Shut up! Just shut up! You're just a doll and a… a…"

"For five Knuts I'd be happy to supply you with an adequate insult," Blaise offered.

"..a weirdo!" Draco finished.

The Slytherin pair stared at him.

"You may want to take Blaise up on his offer next time," Daphne suggested.

Blaise nodded. "Indeed. I'll even give you a discount. Out of pity, of course," Blaise chuckled. "I'd even be willing to offer you a degree of credit if you'd share you thoughts on properly-supportive tailoring."

"For the last time, I. Do. Not. Wear. Panties!"

"Oh? Are you sure?" Angel asked from behind him, causing him to flinch away.

For the moment, Divinity seemed quite satisfied with the fact that the entire class was staring at her and her master, a fact that the cat was quite thankful for. No longer having to worry about receiving an unexpected Bad Touch, she wandered around to stand in front of Draco. Leaning forward and inhaling deeply, she asked, "Are you really, really sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I don't- What are you doing?"

Angel ignored him, circling him and inhaling deeply. After several circuits, she suddenly broke off and wandered through the crowed. She finally stopped in front of Pansy and leaned forward, causing the girl to make a startled noise and step back. Angel matched her movement, stepping in close and inhaling a deep breath through her nose.

"Oh. Okay," she said with a puzzled look on her face. "But that's kind of weird, because you smell like her in places you probably shouldn't..." Angel muttered, pointing a Pasny.

Once again, the entire group of students fixed their unbelieving eyes on Draco.

"Draco… Did you take my…?" Pansy asked in a horrified whisper.

" _No! Look!_ " Draco shrilled. He rapidly shucked his clothing, stripping down to his underwear in front of the entire class. Gesturing down at his boxers with the Remembrall he still held, he yelled, "See!?"

It was only a moment later he realized what he'd just done. Seeing the eyes of well over two dozen students on him, he giggled nervously and backed a little distance away. He held the Remembrall out in front of him, as if the small torture device could hide his shame.

"Pink, Draco?" Daphne asked again. Her comment was met with several giggles.

Harry stared at the blond, then turned to Hermione and whispered, "Why does he still have the ball?"

"Having it is probably the only thing that makes him feel a little in control of the situation," she whispered back. "Either that, or he's reluctant to give up the only ball he has."

Angel glanced down at the ground, up at Draco and back down at the ground. Turning, she gave her master a bright smile. Pointing skyward she asked, "My Boy, what direction is that?" in a sweet, innocent voice.

The boy gave her a confused look. "Uh, up?"

Harry's broom, still laying on the ground where he'd dropped it when Neville fell, shot upwards. Normally this wouldn't have been worth noting at all. After all, that's what brooms did. In this case, however, Draco just happened to be standing above it, one foot on either side.

Draco's eyes bulged as the bristled vehicle slammed into a very tender part of his anatomy. He squealed like a stuck pig and grabbed the broom in an attempt to shove it away. Unfortunately, his newfound friend decided that this meant he was ready to fly. It rocketed into the air, dragging the unfortunate first-year with it.

As it turned out, people who are shocked out of their minds and in agonizing pain don't make the best flyers. The broom swerved back and forth violently, looking for all the world like it was trying to deliberately buck the boy off. With each sudden movement, the wooden shaft was ground harder against his… body.

Given that his current pained state and the fact that he still held the stolen Remembrall in one hand, it was only a matter of time before it happened. The broom took a sharp turn downward, launching Draco off. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, it immediately jerked back up. The tip of the shaft caught the waistband of his boxers, yanking him back upwards. There was another squeal as the front of his underwear was crushed against his abused bits.

Without thinking, Harry rushed over to the nearest broom and screamed, "Up!"

Draco's broom jerked back and forth in crazed patterns, swinging the wailing boy in every direction. The whole time he held the Remembrall clutched to his chest, as if it would somehow save him from his plight. After what seemed like a very long time, Draco was finally swung off the broom.

More accurately, a sharp up-down swerve popped him straight out of his boxers.

He experienced a moment of relief as he arced upward, pure joy filling him as the prolonged abuse finally ended. That joy was quickly replaced with terror as he hit the top of his arc, his body turning to face the ground far, far below. Screaming, he finally released Neville's gift.

Draco's fight-or-flight response kicked in with a vengeance. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't anything to fight and humans generally only fly down. He was left with no choice but to scream helplessly as he plummeted towards his doom.

A shadow fell over him. Looking up he saw - much to his surprise - Harry bearing down on him. The other boy held his broom in a white-knuckled grip, a look of extreme concentration on his face as he shot straight downward at top speed. Draco desperately reached out towards Harry as the Gryffindor released the broom with one hand..

Harry's hand shot out and grabbed the Remembrall that was falling next to Draco. The boy-who-lived pulled up hard, just barely halting his descent in time. Draco was left to slam into the surface of Black Lake like a sack of bricks.

Hermione fixed Harry with a shocked stare as he landed next to her. "You saved the Remembrall? Harry… that was cold," she muttered in an awed tone, examining the small stone held in his hands. "I mean, good catch and all, but… wow."

Harry stared down at the Remembrall with a stunned look on his face. Looking up at Hermione with wide eyes he protested, "I- I meant to grab _him_! It was an accident!"

"It was an accident?" she echoed. Looking up at Crabbe and Goyle, who were already flying towards the lake, she skeptically asked, "You accidentally grabbed a six-inch ball instead of a ten-foot person that was actively reaching for your hand?"

"Uh, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "Okay, that's the story then. I saw it happen. You were definitely trying to save Drico. You just couldn't grab him in time. That's definitely how I saw it."

"Yup. That's what I saw," Angel agreed. "He just took off all on his own. Right into the sky, shaft in one hand and ball in the other."

"Now hurry up and hide that thing while everyone's still looking at the lake,' Hermione ordered. "The stupid rock would be hard to see if you didn't already know he had it, and I doubt anyone else saw it."

"No, that's really what happened! Honest!" Harry insisted.

"Wow, Harry. I think… maybe your subconscious is a really, really scary thing," Hermione decided. "Angel, can you do something about the evidence?"

"Yup! I know how to handle balls!" she declared. She snatched the Remembrall out of her master's hand and stuffed it into her top.

Harry stared at her curiously. It appeared that she had acquired new clothing at some point. Strips of black cloth wound around her upper chest and hips, forming an improvised skirt and top.

"Angel, where did you get those?" he inquired.

"...I found them," the familiar responded.

Hermione immediately added, "They fell off the back of a truck."

Harry gave them an accusing look, then scanned the area. "Where are Drico's robes, Angel?" he asked suspiciously.

"Silly My Boy, Drico was all naked and stuff. He didn't have robes."

"Yeah, kind of weird to be walking around without robes like that," Hermione agreed.

"Well, he is silly enough to go around insulting people. Maybe he lost them?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. A person that walks around saying stupid things is definitely the kind of person who loses their robes."

"Mysteriously," Angel declared in a serious tone.

"Mysteriously," Hermione concurred.

"Uh, right… What's that, then?" he demanded, pointing at a small pouch made of she same cloth hanging from her waist. It was shaking and bouncing, angry noises escaping it every now and then.

"Um…" Angel looked helplessly at Hermione.

The witch shrugged. "I've got nothing."

"Angel..."

"She was annoying me…" the redhead whined.

Harry sighed. It was starting to look like it would be a very long year.

Still way better than the Dursley's, though

* * *

"Ooh, he's gonna feel that one," Sparkles chuckled as Draco hit the lake. He stared down from atop the owlry with a grin. "An' here I figured this'd be borin'. Turns out watchin' a buncha dumbass humans try to fly wasn' a bad idea after all!"

"Watching is good. We're supposed to watch," a quiet, feminine voice declared.

A light weight settled against Sparkles' side, sending a wave of cold through his chest. With an annoyed frown, he grunted and pushed it away.

"Would'ja stop it? I ain't yer pers'nal heater," he snapped, scowling down at his companion.

She had a rather buxom figure, though not to the same degree as Angel. Her pure-white skin, a tone even lighter than Orchid's preferred appearance, was flawless. A thick braid of the same color fell down her chest, woven in a way that completely covered one eye. Her visible eye was a shocking, unnatural shade of ice-blue. Her body was "covered" by a kimono that looked like a cross between the real thing and something you'd find in one of "those" shops. The open front left a large amount of pale flesh bare, and the bottom was cut a bit higher than could be considered decent.

It was pretty obvious she wasn't wearing anything under it up top. A stiff breeze would probably be enough to answer the question for the bottom half.

"You're warm," she protested mournfully.

"An' yer cold. Do it again an' I'll leave yer ass up here."

"That's not nice…"

"I'm a frickin' asura. We ain't exactly known fer bein' nice," Sparkles growled.

"Please?" she asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Sparkles scoffed, "Ha! If 'please' worked, there'd be a lotta asses without heads in 'em out there."

The girl shot him another pleading look, but scooted a short distance away. "You're supposed to be nice to me," she pouted.

"No, th' Boss said ta put up with ya. Trust me, that's what I'm doin'," Sparkles growled. He pushed himself to his feet and looked down at companion. "Ya might be some kinda ghost-"

"Yuki-onna," she corrected. "Snow woman."

Sparkles glared down at her. "Ya might be some kinda _ghost_ , but I'm a' asura. Trust me, I could make ya a whole lot deader than ya already are 'f I wanted to," he threatened. "Not doin' that is me puttin' up with ya."

"You're very warm. Why aren't you nice?" the spirit asked in a genuinely puzzled tone of voice.

The asura looked at her in confusion. "Eh?"

"Why aren't you nice, when you're so warm? The others, they were very nice to me..."

"Others? What're ya talkin' about?"

"They were very warm and kind. They were so nice to me, but then they weren't," she said sadly. "You're warm. Why aren't you nice like they were?"

Sparkles snorted. Leaning down so that he loomed over her, he stared straight into her eyes. "Lemme tell yeh somethin' girl-"  
"Snow."

"- _girl._ Yeh know why th' 'others' stopped bein' nice? 'Cuz ya turned 'em inta damn popsicles. Dead guys ain't usually real good at bein' nice," he announced with a vicious grin.

She looked at him curiously. "Popsicles?"

"Ya killed 'em, ya dumbass. The poor bastards 'r dead. Guess yer a better last sight 'n me, but it don't matter 'f yer freezin' 'em or crushin' 'em. There ain't no difference. Dead is dead."

"Oh," Snow sighed. Surprisingly, she looked more relieved than upset. "I was afraid they didn't like me anymore."

Sparkles stared at her in shock. "Yer… yer an idiot, ain't ya? Ya made 'em dead. Bein' dead ain't a good thing. Ya ain't supposed ta be happy 'bout doin' that. I mean, I would be, but..."

"I'm dead," Snow pointed out. "I don't think it's very bad."

Sparkles paused. "Eh… they're… deader 'n you. Like, real dead. Trust me, 's a bad thing."

"There ain't no difference. Dead is dead," Snow parroted. "It's not a bad thing, unless you're cold. I don't think they're cold, though. They were so warm..."

One hand came up to press against Sparkles' face. "Talkin' to yeh… talkin' to yeh is givin' me a headache. Didn' even know asura _got_ headaches. Yer lucky my Boss likes yer boss fer some reason. 'Cuz 'f she didn', yeh'd be seein' yer colon from th' inside by now…"

"Is it warm there?"

* * *

With all the confusion, Harry didn't remember his letter until long after classes had ended. There wasn't much time left before curfew when he finally asked Angel to cut it open for him. Carefully setting the intact envelope aside (and wondering if it would be weird to frame it) Harry discovered a rather elegantly written note.

"What is it Harry?" Neville asked. He staggered up to his friend with a considerable amount of help from Orchid. Whatever anesthetic venom she'd hit him with had obviously been quite powerful, considering it hadn't quite worn off over half a day later.

Harry smiled and answered, "It's from Hagrid. He's inviting us to afternoon tea on Monday, since we don't have classes."

"Who's Hagrid?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He's the man in the purple suit," Harry responded. "The one that picked us up at the train platform."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "The Pied Piper of Doom? The man who leads innocent children to their deaths on sharp rocks and tentacle-infested waters?"

"Uh.. yes?"

"Oh. Well. It's very unfortunate, but I'm afraid I have to complete my familiar registration on Monday. You two may have already done it because you summoned beings made of pure terror and pain, but the rest of us haven't quite yet."

"Hey! Angel isn't made of…"

"Pure terror and pain."

"Right. She isn't made of that."

Hermione sighed. "So far she's tried to poke Drico's eyes out, tried to eat one owl, hit another with a butter knife, actually succeeded in eating that one, and slammed that Divinity girl's face into a rock so she could stuff her into a sack."

"What!?"

"Honestly, Harry. Did you think she just flew into that sack all on her own?"

"I get the feeling I missed something," Neville muttered. "I also get the feeling it was something I _wanted_ to miss…"

"Anyway, I'm afraid tea is a no-go. I've got to do my duty as a responsible witch and register Crookshanks. It wouldn't be… wait. Has anyone actually seen Crookshanks? He was supposed to be back by now."

"Hagrid said a late tea is fine. You're a 'G', right? You should be all done pretty early. It shouldn't be a problem for you to come," Harry happily announced.

"Harry, I'm not going to-"

"You should come, Hermione. I'm the one that fell into a bush, and I'm not mad at him," Neville point out.

"Filthy bush probably tripped you," Harry muttered. "It's a good thing I saved you in time. Probably wanted to eat you."

Hermione sighed, "Harry, plants don't-" she paused and looked at Orchid. "- _most_ plants don't eat people. I'm pretty sure the bush was that kind."

"You can't be too safe. It was probably just waiting until we let our guard down. Orchid's the only good plant, aren't you Orchid?"

The girl beamed and nodded happily.

"You're… okay with a plant that actually eats people, but that bush was some kind of unimaginable horror?" Hermione asked, giving him a confused look.

"Orchid has proven herself an invaluable asset in the fight against the ultimate evil of the Tumbleweed Conspiracy. She saved Neville from all those nasty plants, didn't she?"

"She did," Neville pointed out, nodding.

"You guys do know she's probably the only reason they attacked him in the first place, right?" Hermione groaned. "Either way, I'm not going to-"

"Please?" Harry asked in an absolutely pathetic tone of voice. "He said he wants to meet my friends. You're my friend, aren't you, Hermione.?"

"...you realize that's completely unfair and horribly manipulative, right?"

"But it worked, didn't it?"

There was a sigh. "Yes, it worked. I'll go."

Harry gave her a bright smile. "Then it's fine. Trust me, Hermione, you'll have fun, so it was all for the Greater Good."

Harry's face suddenly turned an unhealthy shade of green. He keeled over with a pained gasp. A hand was quickly clapped over his mouth. He spent the next several seconds on the floor, gagging and retching.

"Harry! Harry, are you okay?" Hermione demanded in a panic.

"Yeah," Harry gasped. He slowly and unsteadily climbed to his feet. "My mouth just suddenly tasted like I'd bitten into the rotting corpse of a raccoon that'd been rolling around in a dumpster full of last week's eggs just before it died."

Both Hermione and Neville gave him confused stares.

"You know, I don't think I would have wanted friends so badly if I'd known they would be so weird," Hermione admitted. "And speaking of weird, where _is_ my familiar?"

* * *

The halls of Hogwarts were dark, lit only by the flames of magical torches. Even those had been dimmed for the night, leaving barely enough light to see by. All was quiet aside from the occasional scrape of stone as someone entered or exited the walls.

Suddenly the peace was broken by a pained scream. The howl shattered the silence for just a moment, before cutting off abruptly.

Then the halls were silent once more.

* * *

Author's Note:

So, we go from a depressing conversation about dead mothers to rapey familiars and a good, solid bag-tag, then have a nice little discussion about accidental murder.

I'm gonna call this one a win because honestly, this was about what I was aiming for in the first place. Maybe still a little heavy on random and a little light on plot, but I did manage to get some important things in here.

As it turns out, it's kind of hard for me to write a scene without it turning into random antics and bizarre conversations. I'm not really sure what happens between my brain and my fingers, but I'm pretty sure there's some crossed wires along the way.

In the next thrilling chapter you'll get to experience sweaty balls, sticky balls, bruised balls, holy balls, holey balls, flavored balls, bruised balls, wet balls, swampy balls, Neville's balls, and excited balls.

Also, a Holy Crusade begins, some WAFFy moments, vengeance is plotted and three first-years take their first step onto a path from which there is no return.

But mainly just ball jokes.

Like, lots of them.


	13. Lord Nev's Balls

Something Familiar

Chapter 13: "Lord Nev's Balls"  
AKA: "Shearing the Sheep"

* * *

Fred and George had found their purpose. Actually, that simple statement didn't quite capture the full gravity of the situation. The Weasley twins hadn't just found a purpose, they'd found _the_ Purpose. They had found the reason for which they had been put on this Earth, at least for the next five years.

It had, like many of the greatest disasters, started quite simply.

Thursday morning's breakfast had found Fred staring blankly across the Great Hall. He absently ate with mechanical motions, at one point even poking himself in the eye with a piece of bacon and reflexively chewing as if it had hit his mouth. All attempts to talk to him had thus far failed miserably. He just sat there ignoring the world. There was a somewhat thoughtful look on his face as he gazed towards the house hourglasses.

Being only the fourth day of classes, the glass tubes had little more than a shallow lining of gems within them. Despite that, Slytherin was already showing a noticeable lead. Gryffindor was the fullest of the four, but there was one small oddity where they were concerned. Instead of the normal rubies, the glass was full of ugly, irregular chunks of obsidian.

None of the students in the Great Hall had ever seen them before, but it was quite clear what they meant. Those hideous bits of stone were a symbol of Gryffindor's shame. Each of them represented a single negative point levied against their house. Every now and then a student would glare at the hourglass, then turn to fix Neville with an accusing stare across the long span of table separating them.

King, it just so happened, had found something rather interesting to observe at the other end of the hall . By sheer "chance" had resulted in him spending the last twenty minutes staring down the table towards their housemates. His unamused, tight-lipped frown was usually enough to convince them to return to their meals.

"Forgive us, Lord Nev!" Fred suddenly burst out, startling the rest of the group. "You have granted us knowledge, but we waste it! Forgive us, for we are weak! Your gifts lie before us, but we cannot take them. We lack the will to accept your love! We should be surrounded by your blessings, yet our fear of persecution holds us back. Please guide us, Lord Nev! How may we spread your word without suffering at the hands of unbelievers?"

Neville stared at Fred's pleading eyes. The only response he could think of was, "Uh, what?"

"We didn't even know we could get into the negatives until you did it. Fred thinks the black things are pretty. He wants to see more of them. We can't, because we'd spend the next forever in detention. So, how do we screw over our own house without suffering the punishments we probably deserve?" George translated. "I'm in, by the way."  
"I- Isn't that bad? I mean… won't everyone get mad at you?" Neville hesitantly asked.

"Eh, screw 'em," George said eloquently. He clapped a friendly hand down on Neville's shoulder. "Anyone that treats a housemate like crap 'cuz of a few made-up points deserves to be pissed off."

"We don't like it when people throw rocks at our pets, y'see," Fred added. "We have a tendency to throw 'em back, bigger and harder. A good chunk of the house already gives us the cold shoulder 'cuz of that. A few more dirty looks aren't gonna matter."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"There might have been a bit of a dust-up our first year. See, we met King on the train and decided to adopt him. Kind of a charity thing."

"Then he lost a bunch of points because no one believed it when he said he was busting stuff and 'disrupting class' on accident."

"Everyone decided they didn't like him because of that BS, so we decided we didn't like everyone."

"We wanted to get our point across, but we probably coulda been more subtle about it."

"You inflicted every member of our house with a case of loud, noxious and, above all, wet flatulence. Our classmates were crippled and our tower unlivable for three days," King scolded.

"Hey, we hadn't actually brewed that stuff before. We'd just gotten our wands. It was just something we'd worked out on paper using Bill's old potions books."

Hermione stared at them. "You used an untested potion on your own house!?" she demanded.

"Yeah, at the time-"

"And it _worked_!?" the witch exclaimed. "You created a functional potion at the age of eleven, with no formal training?"

"Um, yeah?" Fred shrugged. "Well, it didn't turn out so well, did it? It should've only lasted a few hours…"

"..and it wasn't supposed to be quite so… slimy."  
"Making a new potion is supposed to be incredibly hard. I mean, _A History of Fluids Most Foule_ said it was hard to get any magical effect at all, let alone something so close to what you're trying for," Hermione stared at them in shock. "Are you guys… like… actually really smart?" she whispered, sounding thoroughly terrified at the very prospect.

" _A History of Fluids Most Foule_?"

"I asked my parents to buy a few extra books so I'd have a solid grasp of our curriculum before attempting to learn it," Hermione primly stated. Much quieter, she muttered, "We can't all be some sort of idiot geniuses, after all," in an extremely annoyed tone.

"Anyway, the Brown Geyser Incident was pretty much the end for us. We got blackballed in our first year. Most of our housemates kinda ignore us. They don't hate us, but we're not exactly friends. Even the ones that _do_ hate us pretty much leave us alone," Fred stated dismissively.

George snorted. "Figured that one out right quick, didn't they? All it took was a few things like the Golden Shower-"

"We don't talk about that!" Fred snapped, slamming a hand down on the table for emphasis. "We _never_ talk about that. That day did _not_ happen. You agreed to that, just like everyone else."

George sighed. "You people make such a big deal over a few thousand gallons of-"

"You know the penalty, George," Fred growled menacingly. He slowly withdrew a pair of rough iron shears from his robes. "It's better for me to do it than someone else. In a few months it'll be like it never happened. Probably."

"Fred? Why the hell are you even carrying those?" George demanded.

"They're my shears. I always carry my shears," Fred declared. He opened and closed the sharp implement a few times for effect. It made a horrible grinding noise, the sort of sound you'd expect a horribly-maintained, rusted, half-blunt tool to make. "Gotta have my shears."

George edged away from his brother nervously. He moved so far away that he ended up on Lady's lap. Since Lady was in her preferred seat - King's lap - this made for a rather odd pileup.

Lady speared a chunk of pancake and held it up to George's mouth. Without thinking, the redhead opened up and accepted the morsel.

"Why would you need shears!?" George mumbled through his mouthful of pancake.

Fred looked at his brother like he was a moron. "Duh. In case I have to shear something. Obviously."

"Dragging those things around everywhere is just… weird, Fred. What the hell do you think you're gonna shear that's so important that you have to carry them all the time?"

Fred used the shears to scratch his head. Little flecks of rust peppered his forehead. "I dunno. Sheep? I mean, this place is lousy with sheep. Can't throw a rock around here without hitting a sheep! Why, we're practically swimming in them! Right guys?" he declared, looking towards the first-years for support.

"I- I don't know if I've ever even seen a sheep," Neville admitted, not quite catching his meaning.

"I'm pretty sure we didn't have sheep in Surrey," Harry answered. "And Hermione lives in London. There's not a lot of wild animals there…"

"I saw a cougar, once…" Hermione announced in a shaky whisper, her face pale. "It was just sitting there, in the bush. Just sitting there and _watching_. Watching with those… eyes. And the old lady down the street, she didn't see it. She didn't see the cougar. She just kept walking down the sidewalk, like it wasn't there. And the cougar, it… it…" Hermione paused.

"That's why you need a good set of shears!" Fred broke in. "Ain't many problems you can't solve with a good set of shears."

"Even… cougars?"

" _Especially_ cougars. There's not a cougar out there that can stand being sheared down to size." Fred reached into his robe and pulled out another set of shears. They were smaller and much cleaner than the first pair. With a smile, he tossed them across the table and into Hermione's lap. "Next cougar you see, you give him a taste of that. I guaranteed you'll need a _mop_ to clean that bugger up."

Hermione held the tool up to the light, admiring the way the edges shone. She quickly tucked the shears into her robe with a mumbled, "Thank you."

"You carry _two_ sets of shears!? One pair is messed up, but for what possible reason in the world would you be carrying a second one?" George demanded. He paused for a moment, allowing a bit of bacon to be inserted into his mouth. "That's just messed up, brother."  
"I'll have you know that it's in case I find a second sheep. It'd be rude to make it wait."

"You've never even been near a sheep. You couldn't shear one sheep, let alone two at the same time. You'd probably kill the poor things trying," George paused. "Although, I guess there's worse things you could be doing to them…"

Fred gave him a confused look. "What things?"

"Yeah, you know. The other thing people do to sheep."  
"Eat them?"

"The other other thing."

"What other thing?"

"The _other_ thing, Fred!"

Fred sighed and shook his head. "You're acting pretty odd, George. What else would you do to a sheep?"

"Bugger it, Fred!" George snapped.

Fred snorted and started laughing hysterically, slamming his shears into the table. Each impact sent a little cloud of rust into the air. "You'd bugger a sheep!? Oh man, George… You think you know a guy…"

George glared at his brother. "I really hate you sometimes," he snarled. "Were you seriously carrying those things just so you could make me say that?"

"What? Of course not," Fred giggled. "They're my shears, man. It'd be weird if I didn't have them." With another chuckle he slipped the tool back into his robes.

"You know what? At this point, I don't even want to know. What they hell were we actually talking about?" George asked.

"How no one likes you," Harry said hesitantly. "I- I'm sorry, but…"

Fred reached across the table and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It's cool, Harry. That's pretty much how it is."

"No harm tellin' it like it is, kid."

"There's a few cool people like Lee-"

"-who thought blasting a hole through his knickers was hilarious, for some reason-"

"-but most people don't want much to do with us," Fred finished. "You know, George, I put away my shears. You can come back and sit over here, you big weenie."

George shrugged nonchalantly. "That's okay. This is actually surprisingly comfortable, and I never realized how much of a pain eating breakfast was until someone else did most of it for me. You complain about this?" he asked King.

Lady huffed and glared at her master. She very pointedly turned and fed George a forkful of pancakes.

"I find it somewhat demeaning to rely on another to complete what should be a simple task," King explained. "Now, I would greatly appreciate it if you would vacate my lap."

"I'm not in your lap, King. I'm in Lady's. I don't think you have any right tell me to get out of her lap. Does he?"

Lady shook her head and supplied him with another forkful of food, glaring at her master the whole time.

"That's pathetic. All it takes is a strip of bacon and the watery tart is your new best friend," Fred remarked.

The water elemental snapped her wrist, sending a marble-sized blob of water careening into the side of his head. The projectile popped on impact and soaked his ear.

"Fred. Brother. You don't understand. It's bacon. It's bacon that I don't even have to pick up. It's like someone created a miraculous spell that just puts bacon in your mouth every time you want bacon in your mouth. Which is all the times, Fred. All the times," George muttered around a mouthful of bacon.

"That doesn't-" A pellet of water hit Fred's jaw. "It doesn't-" Another pellet nearly hit his eyes. "Quit it!" A well-aimed pellet pegged him straight in the temple.

As the next watery projectile sailed towards him, Fred let out a battlecry. He swept his plate off the table and used it to intercept the blob.

Harry, Hermione and Neville stared down at Fred's breakfast, which now occupied their laps.

"Yeah, that's right!" Fred crowded. "Is that all you've got, you moistened-"

George was subjected to the strangest feeling he'd experienced in his entire life as Lady flowed around him, dropping him into King's lap. She reformed standing on his legs, arm cocked back. Water rippled up her body, gathering into a swirling mass of fluid at the end of her arm.

"Oh," Fred gulped. "Uh, not the face?"

A baseball-sized ball of compressed water slammed into his crotch hard enough to knock him straight off his seat. The sphere then detonated violently, sending him rocketing down the table. Chairs flew in every direction as he plowed through them. He ended up laying on the floor next to Ron's seat.

Fred groaned clutching his bits with both hands. His vision fuzzy and swimming, he gazed straight up towards his brother. "Ronnikins…" he groaned. "Why're your pants all cruddy? You shoundn't wear dirty pants."

"They're not dirty! I've only worn them since the Express!" Ron exclaimed, clearly affronted by the horrible accusation. "I did spill some pancakes and syrup on them yesterday, but I brushed it all off!"

"Right…" Fred muttered, squinting at the fuzzy face peering over the edge of the table. "Is the immense amount of pain I'm in making me hallucinate, or does your rat actually look like a rat?"

Ron snatched his rat off the table and clutched the creature to his chest. "Of course he looks like a rat. What else would he look like?"

"I've been… kind of wondering that since you summoned it."

George let out a long, low whistle as the water elemental reformed sitting in his lap. "Nice shot. There's not gonna be any fruit hanging from that branch, that's for sure."

Giggle-ripples spread across Lady's body. She quickly scoured the table, checking every nearby pitcher. Those containing water were dumped into her body, slowly increasing the pressure on George's lap. Those that contained things other than water were negligently tossed over her shoulder.

Judging by the angry shouts, at least a few full pitchers made it to the Hufflepuff table.

"Feeling better?" George inquired.

The elemental nodded enthusiastically.

"You know those just refill when you put them back down, right?"

Lady gave him a confused look, then shrugged. She quickly snatched up a fork and impaled some food. Turning, she paused with the fork raised halfway. She glanced uncertainly between the two wizards, her face expressing about as much confusion as a mostly-featureless construct made of water could express. After a moment of indecision, she came up with the perfect solution.

A third arm emerged from her torso. Using it, she picked up a second fork and acquired more food. There was a happy smile on her face as she offered food to both wizards at once. George and King obligingly accepted it. Lady happily turned and acquired more food, her unoccupied limb resting on the table.

"You realize, Red, that you are now in my lap," King stated. "So it is well within my rights to ask that you remove yourself. Please do so."

George thought for a moment. "Uh, yeah. About that. I'm not real sure that's an option at this point. I think we're bound to share this chair," he joked. "Like, literally."

King carefully leaned over and glanced to the side, observing the thick bands of liquid that were securing them both to the piece of furniture. "I see. I did wonder why she felt the need to acquire extra water."

"Do me a favor and humor her, okay? If you try to get up, we're gonna find out if my legs are stronger than a determined elemental. I can't say I feel good about my chances."

"Wow. I really _should_ start carrying a camera," Hermione announced. The declaration was met by uncertain stares from Neville and Harry.

"More… research material, Hermione?" Harry asked skeptically.

The girl shook her head. "No, but I think it would make great blackmail material."

"Uh, Hermione? You blackmail someone by kind of… threatening to ruin their reputation," Harry pointed out. "I'm pretty sure that won't work… uh… sorry…"

"Eh, whatever," Fred groaned as he dragged himself up into his seat. "Even they liked us, they'd probably rethink it the first time the wind changed."

"Well, _I_ like you," Harry announced.

Neville nodded. "Me too. I bet you'd pull someone out of a bush."

"I… don't hate you?" Hermione stated, earning a upset look from Harry and Neville. "Fine, fine. I admit it. I like you. You're quite clearly insane, but I doubt you'd talk about someone behind their back, at least."

"You got that right. More fun to do it from the front," Fred confirmed. "You can't see how pissed they get from the back."

"That's good, because doing that is just the _worst._ People that braid your hair and say you're their best friend, then tell everyone else you're a dork and that they only hang out with you because your mothers are friends should just _die_."

The final word was punctuated by a sold thunking sound. The male residents of the table stared in shock at the fork buried tine-first into the table, still vibrating from the impact. Harry and Neville subtly scooted away from their female friend.

Hermione gave the utensil a confused look. She glanced down at her hand, then back up at the table. "Uh… oops. I must have missed my eggs."

Harry and Neville scooted a bit further away.

"Okay, so 'pissing off the emotionally unstable, potentially violent eleven-year-old with obvious betrayal issues' is now pretty high on my list of things not to do," Fred announced.

George nodded. "Yeah, I'd say- ack! Merlin, King, that'd better be your wand you just poked me in the ass with!" he yelped. "Wow, I _really_ hope that isn't you, because I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to wiggle around like that! That is _definitely_ a bad touch!" he scolded, glaring at Lady.

The elemental gave him an innocent look. A wand drifted through her body, flowing up to be held in her free hand. Holding it up for him to see, she gestured first towards King's now-empty plate, then down the table towards a laden serving platter.

"Ah, no, that's okay," George protested. "I'm full. Couldn't eat another bite."

Lady frowned at him and turned towards her master.

"I, too, and quite sated my dear. There is no need for more food," King quickly informed her.

She huffed and quickly vacated their laps, finally freeing George. Her body splashed to the floor and quickly passed under the table. Flowing up Harry's legs, she reformed in his lap with her arms (now back down to the normal two) around his neck. Pointing at his half-full plate, she gave him a hopeful look.

"Ah, sure," Harry said, not sounding sure about it at all.

King sighed. "Say what you may, she does, indeed, enjoy being helpful. It is simply unfortunate that she insists on doing so more than is prudent."

"It's not like she can help it. Water's the nurturing element, King. It pretty obvious she'd want to take care of people. Of course, even water gets pretty nasty if you cheese it off," Fred mumbled, still massaging his crotch.

The rest of the table stared at him in disbelief.

"What?" he demanded defensively. "I read!"

"More importantly, would you _please_ get your hand out of your trousers!?" Hermione demanded. "There's no way I can eat with you doing that across from me."

"Damn, you're right! Now I can't hold bacon in that hand." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "It gets pretty sweaty under these robes…"

"A~nd I'm done." Hermione tossed a half-eaten strip of bacon on the plate.

"Cool. We were out of bacon," Fred cheered, lunging across the table and stealing it. He shoved it in his mouth with a happy smile. Downing the meat, he quickly licked the grease off his fingers. "Ah, bacon."  
"Ah, brother?" George chuckled. "I feel like I should point out the fact that you just used the wrong hand."

Fred paused, then raised his hand and gave it an experimental sniff. "Yeah, it's definitely getting a little swampy down there. Thought that bacon tasted a little extra salty," he muttered. His eyes widened slightly as his face took on a greenish tinge. "I just realized something. I- I was holding my meat right before I was holding that meat."

Neville snorted, then burst out laughing. The rest of his friends looked on in surprise as he giggled hysterically, clutching the table for support. "Th- That's so gross! You just… just licked… off your hand! You s- sucked on your fingers a- and everything!" he stuttered, tears pouring down his face.

"Giggle dust?" Hermione asked warily, scooting away from the hysterical boy.

Harry inhaled a deep breath and held it. He quickly leaned forward and yanked Neville's collar, exposing his neck and part of his back. Both showed a conspicuous lack of anything resembling a plant. Exhaling, Harry looked at Hermione and shook his head.

"Great. So he just went insane, then," Hermione grumbled. She shuffled her seat back into its original position. "I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than being full of mind-altering toxins."

"Nevermind that! Get me something to drink, damn it! Why're they all empty!?" he demanded, snatching up another goblet and tossing it aside. "Where the hell'd all the pitchers go!?"

"Um, Fred? Could you say 'ah' for me?" Harry asked quietly.

"Wha-"

A ball of water slammed into his open mouth, knocking him out of his chair.

Lady lowered her arm and looked down at Harry. Smiling up at her, he announced, "We helped."

Hermione, George and King looked at Harry like he'd just grown a third eye. Neville, on the other hand, just started laughing harder.

"H- His nose! Oh, Merlin! S- so hard it c- came out his nose! I saw it!"

"What? We helped," Harry said defensively. Lady scowled and nodded in agreement. "Fred wanted water, but all our water's in Lady. So she gave some back."

"I do not believe there was any call to deliver it in such a manner, Harry. Lady is quite capable of filling a cup."

"Fred tossed all the cups," Harry countered.

Said wizard threw a sodden arm up on the table and used the surface to haul himself back up. "Merlin… it feels like someone took a cauldron brush to the inside of my mouth…"  
"You see? Apologize to Red this instant, Harry!" King commanded.

"Are you kidding? The kid did great," Fred commended. "That almost got the taste out of my mouth."

"Almost?" King asked in disbelief. "Red, you must consider bathing more frequently…"

"Hey, I just took a shower this morning. It's not my fault a produce copious amounts of manly fluids. Still, that _is_ a bit mankey," he muttered. "Why do I taste like citrus?"

"That is not appropriate talk for-" King paused, then glared at George. "Why on Earth are you still on my lap?"

"Because it seemed like too much effort to move? Besides, I thought it'd be safer to stay over here while Fred figured out how to handle his balls which, I've just learned, apparently taste like lemon."

"Lime," Fred corrected.

"Lime. Either way, you might want to get that looked at."

Hermione groaned, "Look, can we stop talking about Fred's-"

"-sweaty citrus balls.," George finished.

"-serious mental issues," Hermione corrected him. "What in the world were we even talking about that started all this?"

"Neville's balls," Fred answered.

"Do you have balls on your brain or something!?"

George snickered, "No, but he's had them on his chin…"

Neville started laughing even harder. It was no longer possible to tell what color his face was supposed to be. The whole thing was bright red, covered in tears and snot. Hermione gave the redhead a long-suffering, exasperated look, while Harry just stared at him in confusion.

"No, no. Seriously, guys. We were talking about Neville's balls and trying to figure out how we can grab them without getting in trouble," Fred insisted.

Neville stopped laughing suddenly, staring at the older boy in horror. He was far from the only one.

"What? Why're you… O~h, that sounded really bad, didn't it? I've really got to get a grip." Fred mimed squeezing something with one hand. "Sometimes I don't quite grasp what I'm saying."

"Geez, Fred. Are you going to offer him some candy or something?" Hermione demanded.

"There's no toys in the van, Neville," Harry added. "Don't go in the van."

"Suddenly I wish I had a man-eating plant wrapped around me…" Neville muttered.

Fred scratched his head and looked down with an embarrassed look on his face. "So, this'd probably be a bad time to point out the pocket full of lollipops I have?" He opened he robe, revealing a couple dozen candies hanging out of his pocked.

"Uh, okay. Now _I_ wish I had a man-eating plant wrapped around me," Hermione declared.

"Hermione? Can we share?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Oh, come on! They're experimental potion-pops! All the potion with 100% more pop!" Fred cackled. "I was gonna dump a bunch on the floor outside the first-year classrooms. Kid walks out, sees a pop and - _BOOM_! - instant voluntary test subject."

"You're- you're going to test experimental potions on a bunch of children?" Hermione gasped.

"Yeah? That was kinda the plan…"  
The witch relaxed with a sigh. "Oh. That's fine then."

"Uh, Hermione? Really?" Harry asked. "That's seriously okay with you?"  
The girl rolled her eyes and huffed, "Don't complain so much, Harry. It's for _science_."

"Magic," George coughed into his hand.

"It's for _magic_ ," she corrected herself. "Besides, I'm sure it's perfectly safe."

Fred and George exchanged uncertain glances.

"I'm sure it's nothing the Hospital Wing couldn't fix," Hermione amended

"Oh, yeah." "Yeah, definitely."

"See? Those candies aren't for nefarious purposes at all," she concluded.

"I'd still feel better with a buncha thorns poking me," Neville muttered. "Wait, where is Orchid, anyway?"

"How would I know? It wasn't my turn… to…" George trailed off. Frowning, he looked up and down the table curiously. "Wait. Aside from Bubbles, does anyone know where their familiar is?"

"Haven't seen the girls."

"Angel went into the walls after we got up."

"I- I still haven't seen Crookshanks. He should be back by now… and now Headwig's gone, too!"

Fred rubbed his chin. "Actually… that seems to be going around."

Following his gaze, the party looked across the Great Hall. Nearly every witch and wizard was eating alone. There was the odd dog or cat hanging about, but the room wasn't quite meeting its normal leg quota.

"What the hell?"

* * *

The corner was a normal corner. It was like nearly every other corner in the main part of the castle. It was a simple ninety-degree turn with stone walls on both sides. There was a single portrait on each outside wall, and a magical torch on the inside of the bend. It was just your garden-variety bend, about as bland as anything in a castle full of magic could be.

There was absolutely no reason the floor should be shaking.

A rhino hurtled around the bend at a speed that could definitely be considered unsafe. The beast tried to make the turn, but its blunt feet failed to find purchase on the flagstone floor. Sliding, its side slammed into the wall with a tremendous crash. The impact knocked the brickwork in slightly and nearly dislodged Orchid..

The enormous beast was barely fazed by the impact. Once again entering a straight hall, it began to pick up speed. Orchid crouched on its back, leaning forward and supporting herself with one arm. As the rhino once again reached fatal velocity she thrust her other arm into the air, holding up some manner of small, hollow ball that was covered in holes as her body was wracked by silent, hysterical laughter.

A moment later an abnormally large warthog came into sight, taking the turn much better than the larger familiar. Ri and Ru stood atop its back, each serving to support two of Angel's paws. The kitten held her head high as they charged forward, ensuring Headwig - perched on her head - had a good view. The owl hooted a battlecry and thrust one wing out, a commander ordering the troops to charge.

A veritable flood of familiars poured around the corner hot on their heels. The wave of animals seemed to contain almost every manner of beast imaginable. Most of the larger ones were supporting their small brethren, serving as their mounts and vehicles.

In just a moment they were gone, leaving a pair of stunned paintings in their wake.

* * *

"They're probably just asleep or something," George decided. "I mean, what do a bunch of dogs and stuff even do for most of the day?"

"I bet they take turns taking each other for walks. LIke, the horses walk the dogs, the dogs walk the cats, the cats walk the mice and the mice walk the… horses?" Fred suggested.

"That's absurd," Hermione sighed. "How in the world would a mouse walk a horse?"

"With a leash. Duh."

"I'm starting to wonder why I talk-"  
Fred started giggling. "I'm sorry. Sorry. I was just picturing a mouse trying to walk a mule, but the mule doesn't go because it's stubborn, so the dog the mule's walking helps, but the cat the the dog's walking is a cat, so he's an asshole, and instead of helping the dog help the mouse walk the mule he's playing poker with a bunch of other dogs that are smoking - they're bad dogs - and is getting mad that he's losing so he threatens to have his friend the monkey cut them all like the bitches they are."

"H- how hard did Lady hit him?" Hermione asked in a whisper. "Because he's acting strange… er. He's acting stranger than normal, and I can't imagine a high-speed projectile directly to your brainstem is particularly healthy…"  
"Uh, did she 'bang him in the head a little', maybe? I mean, he might have nightmare-owl syndrome," Harry suggested.

"If he starts screaming, I'm never coming here for breakfast again. _Ever_ ," Neville blurted.

George heaved a deep sigh. "You mind if I get up a second, King?"

"..."

"That's what I thought. Hup." George bounced off King's lap.

As soon as the redhead left, King's chair let out a pained groan. The wooden legs splintered and the tortured furniture dumped him to the floor. King sighed and grabbed the table to pull himself up. Instead, he managed to pull a chunk of table down.

"Hoo, good timing. Sure would have sucked to get dumped on the floor," George stated as he moved to stand behind his brother. He pulled a glass phial from his robes and broke the top off with a flick of his thumb. "Hey, Fred. Say 'ah' for me."

"Wha-"

George grabbed his brother's hair and yanked his head back, dumping the contents of the container down his throat. Releasing Fred brother, he tossed the empty glass over his shoulder. Fred pitched forward, coughing and gasping.

"There we go. Right as rain," George announced.

"Damn it, why do people keep doing that everytime I try to say wha-"

George yanked his brother's head back again and poured another potion down his throat.

"Sorry, got the wrong one the first time," he apologized, thumbing his hacking brother on the back. After a moment he paused and squinted at the phial. He then quickly searched his robes. "Wait, that _was_ the right pocket. I got the right one the first time."

"George…"

"So, uh, just let me know if you feel funny. I'm gonna be honest here," George gave his brother an abashed grin, "I have no idea what that first potion was…"

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry asked with a concerned quaver in his voice.

"Well, the anti-concussion potion should take care of the bitch-cutting-monkey thing. He's kinda prone to head trauma, so I knicked a handful when we were in the Hospital Wing," George reassured him.

"That explains a lot," Hermione muttered.

"As for the rest, I'm pretty sure I wasn't carrying anything lethal. Possibly horribly embarrassing, but not lethal."

"I better not go through four rolls of bum-wad this time, brother…"

"Uh, this time?"

"When we have test a new potion, we have to use it on someone, right? So we play rock-paper-scissors. He always loses," George explained.

"You cheat!"

"He throws according to a simple pattern. The funny part is that he doesn't know what it is, so everytime he tries to break out of it, he just follows it."

"Why don't you just toss a coin?" Hermione suggested.

The twins stared at her for a moment.

" _Damn it_!" Fred howled, throwing his head back and pulling at his hair. "Do you have any idea how much _chafing_ I could have avoided!?"

George glared at her through narrowed eyes. "I don't like you anymore. You're my least favorite pet now. You get the _small_ treats."

"Look, nevermind that! We need to talk about Neville's balls. They're beautiful, and I must have them!" Fred insisted, pointing at the hourglasses.

"Oh! Those," Neville sighed in relief.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure why you're so fixated on this, but- Why is your hand in your pants again!?"

"Hey, that explains it," Fred chuckled. He pulled out a half-melted green lollipop. It was covered in red, curly hairs. With a grimace, the redhead sniffed it. "Yep. Lime and ball sweat. I'm not real big on that flavor. Anyone else want it?"

"Why was there candy in your pants...?" Harry hesitantly inquired.

"I dunno. Musta been there when I put them on." Fred shrugged. "I misplace things sometimes. I usually check my pants, but I was in a hurry this morning."

"You 'misplace' things into your pants regularly enough that you've made a habit of checking them?" Hermione grimaced. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

"Hey, it's not like it's a big deal. Well, aside from that time I had a bunch of Jumping Jellies in my crotch. That made for a real interesting Charms class."

"I… look, you can't just break the rules. If you do, I'm going to have to stop you."

"You wouldn't!" the twins protested together, giving her betrayed looks.

The witch hummed in thought. "Of course, since house points are meaningless losing them isn't really a punishment. And obviously you get punished for breaking the rules. So if you only lose house points, clearly you weren't actually breaking a rule. We'll just have to make sure you don't actually get punished," she concluded.

"That's some… flexible logic," Fred observed.

"Making previously-undiscovered connections between things is the foundation of discovery," Hermione asserted. "I don't suppose any of you have read the school's charter?"

They gave her blank looks.

"You know, I've been meaning to. I hear it's a real page-turner… Seriously, who actually does that?" George demanded.

"I do, and you should be glad. It contains a great many guidelines regarding how the school should be run. Too many, really. Whoever wrote it was quite clearly insane. They even dictated what order the urinals in the second-floor west boy's bathroom should be cleaned…"

"Five-One-Three-Two-Five," Fred recited from memory. "I dunno why we have to clean five twice, but it's pretty obvious four's never been cleaned. You wouldn't believe the crud that builds up after a millennium."

"It bit Fred last time he tried to use it. Like, bit him bit him. Right on the ass," George added.

"Uh, on the-"

"The stalls were full!" Fred snapped. "At least I didn't just waltz into the witch's room."

George shrugged. "Wouldn't a been a problem if I hadn't run out of bum-wad. Good thing the girl in the next stall was a Hufflepuff. She handed me a new roll before she took off screaming."

"I'm not sure you guys are good role models," Hermione remarked.

"Are you kidding? We're horrible role models," Fred declared proudly.

Hermione frowned and looked down the table. Now that Ron had cleaned up his rat, there was actually people sitting around him. No one had to stand or sit on the floor anymore. They were, however, quite clearly leaving a large gap between her small group and themselves.

 _Go away you dork. Sit in the corner and read a book or something,_ a familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind.

"Good bad role models are probably better than bad good role models," she decided with a sigh.

The twins stared at her. "Uh, what?"

"Nothing. The point I was trying to make is that the charter dictates what punishments can be considered fair for a given infraction. The staff is strongly encouraged to stay within these guidelines, and this is enforced by the fact that our head of house must sign off on any punishment we receive other than a loss of house points."

"If there's rules-"

"-McGonagall's gonna follow them…"

"I could go into detail, but I think you'd just fall asleep. A summary will suffice, anyway. Don't get caught doing something disrespectful to the staff. No more claiming responsibility if you stick an innocent man to a broom."

George snorted, "Innocent?"

"We did get two detentions for that," Fred muttered thoughtfully.

"Don't do anything to disrupt class or, again, don't get caught. Anywhere outside of that is fair game, so stick to the halls, Great Hall and outdoors if you want to get docked points without a detention. Sending someone to the Hospital wing is okay as long as they don't need to spend the night. Last, don't do anything that significantly disrupts the school's ability to operate normally. Not for more than a day, anyway," Hermione finished.

"Whoa, hold up. Are you seriously saying we can jack up the whole school for a day and not even get a detention for it?" George inquired in a shocked whisper.

"Hermness, if you're pulling my our legs I'm never going to talk to you again," Fred threatened. "If you're not, this is possibly the greatest day of my life. I really want to believe you, but that's totally nuts..."

Hermione shrugged. "Hey, I didn't write the rules, did I? Once you take away the consideration of house points, there's several glaring holes in the school's disciplinary system. The entire thing seems based on psychological manipulations intended to make us hate each other if we mess up."

"That's… totally, uh, mess-"

"-vasco'd up," Harry finished. Taking in the confused stares he received he frowned. "What? It is… people shouldn't hate you because you stood up for your friends. That's a good thing."

Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Having friends is great. It's a lot better than sitting alone in the mansion with Gran. Why would you get mad at someone you could be friends with for a silly reason like that?"

"You guys give me the warm fuzzies, you know that?" Fred declared, clasping his hands over his chest. There was a pause, then he turned towards his brother with a horrified look. "That's… not the warm fuzzies… It's, uh, a little lower. George… you fed me that potion, damn it!"

His brother gave him a confused look. "What potion? I'm carrying, like, twenty of them on that side and they're not labeled," George stated. He paused a moment, then smacked his head. "Oh, that potion."

"Why the heck wouldn't you label themt!?" Hermione demanded.

George shrugged. "It's like the muggle game Russian Roulette, except instead of a hole in your head you might get a pole in your pants," George chuckled. "Don't worry, Fred. It should only last three hours. But if it lasts more than four, make sure you see a mediwitch right away. Preferably not one of the hot ones."

"I can't believe you…" Hermione muttered

"What, you've never heard of a penalty game before? Lose the game, drink a potion!"

"George, how the hell am I supposed to go to class like this?" Fred demanded.

"I dunno. Hold a book in front of it?"

"Oh, Merlin! It' sticking to my pants, George! There's lime sucker all over it and it's sticking to my pants. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"I'd say I can only imagine, but I honestly don't even want to think about it."

Hermione sighed. "Will you just-"

"It got goo in my zipper, George! How am I gonna use the bathroom if I can't undo my zipper?"

"Just pull your pants down or something."

"George," Fred growled. "It's stuck to my damn pants!"

"Stick it to the side of your leg for now. We can deal with it later. Sorry, you can deal with it later. I'm not going near that thing."

With an annoyed grumble, Fred stuck his hand down his pants and fiddled around for a moment. Eventually he pulled his and out, covered in green goo.

"Are you done?" Hermione demanded.

"Yeah, done. Seriously though, you do realize you backing the wrong horse here, right? You ain't gonna be winning any popularity contests, that's for sure."

"People aren't going to like us? You mean the ones that just stood there while someone stole our property and hurled racial slurs at us? Or maybe you mean the ones that didn't even protest when Angel slammed that Divinity girl's face into a rock and stuffed her in a sack?" Hermione inquired with a disgusted look on her face. "I know I'd certainly help if I saw someone trying to harm Orchid or Angel. Assuming they weren't a bloody smear before I got there, of course."

"I'm glad someone has some sense. King's great. He's one of the best people we know, and - as much as he may disapprove - he's got our back no matter what we do. But it gets kinda boring when there's only a couple of people that talk to you regularly," George declared. "It's a good thing we got to you three before people started teaching you all sorts of bad things."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to teach us worse things?" Hermione sighed. Despite that, there was a slight smile on her face.

George laughed. "Oh man, worse doesn't even begin to cover it. With this pact, our powers have doubled! We're going to unleash a plague upon this place. The very walls will quiver in terror when we pass!" He started laughing maniacally, throwing his head back and standing on his chair.

"Don't worry, he does that at least once a week. People barely notice it now," Fred reassured them. "But seriously, if we're gonna do this, we gotta do it right. All shall feel Lord Nev's blessing, and his light shall burn the flesh of the betrayer, and they shall shed tears of defeat, and it shall be good. So how exactly do we do that?"

'Psychological warfare," Hermione instantly responded. "They do it to us, so it's only fair we do it to them."

"Do tell," George prompted. He was now sitting on the table in front of Hermione, looking at her with a great deal of interest.

"No matter how many documentaries you watch, they all show the same things. A small victory now is worth a lot less than a big one later. Strategy and planning is more important than the size of your force. Knock your enemy off balance and they make bad choices and are significantly hampered," Hermione rattled off. "Basically, get them on your turf and mess with them so bad they don't know which way is up. Get them mad or scared until they do something stupid and play right into your hands. Then, when they're defenseless, you bring the hammer down so hard their own mothers won't recognize their face."

The twins stared at her.

"Lady Hermness, please let me know if I ever piss you off. I'll buy you chocolate. Lots of it," George promised.

Fred stroked his chin. "So how do you get a professor messed-up enough to do what we want? And, uh, what do we want?"

"Um… when Dudley played Harry H- uh, hide and seek, he'd start to get really mad if he couldn't find me," Harry chimed in. "He'd also get really mad if I climbed up somewhere and he couldn't get there to… tag me."

"Lady Hermaness, can they punish us if they don't catch us? Like, if the knew we did something but there wasn't any proof," George asked thoughtfully.

"Technically speaking, the punishment has to be for a specific infraction that was witnessed by a member of the staff, a prefect or a reliable witness. The only other way is if there's solid evidence pointing to us."

"So… who qualifies as a reliable witness against us, and what qualifies as solid evidence?"  
Hermione shrugged. "That's pretty much up to Professor McGonagall. She can review any evidence and question anyone leveling an accusation against us."

"George?" Fred asked.

"Too easy," his brother declared. "Obvious, even. Long-term pranks that are nearly impossible to find. We use them to mess up the school more and more, with no evidence connecting them to us. Everyone knows we did it but the staff can't touch us, can't find 'em and couldn't punish us for 'em even if they did." He nodded towards Harry. "Then we do something they can nail us for, but can't give us detention for. They'll be so pissed they hit us like a freight train."

Hermione thought for a moment, then nodded. "That's good. That could work..."

"Right. What're we working with, then? Me and Fred are ace at potions, and we can do charms and ritual magic alright. KIng's pretty good at charms, curses and hexes-"

"I will be assisting your planning for the sake of insuring you do not do anything too rash. That is all the aid that I will offer you," King declared.

"Right, So…?"

"Um, I think I might be okay at arithmancy and runes. Maybe…" Neville offered. "Gran wanted me to study, but those were the only things I could do without a wand. We didn't really leave home much, so I had a lot of time…"

"I've read lots of things, and I'm told I have excellent recall," Hermione proudly announced. "Also, Harry and I were the first to complete our lesson in both Transfiguration and Charms."

"Could be useful," Fred nodded. "So, to be absolutely clear: we're attacking a corrupt academic system here. We're basically waging war on both our classmates and our teachers."

"Honestly though, we're doing it because it'll be funny as hell," George admitted. "There's a good chance we're gonna be up shit creek without a paddle, a hole in the boat and shit-alligators swimming in the shit."

Fred grinned and cheered, "Sounds like fun! I'm in!"

Harry frowned as he looked down the table at his housemates. Whether it be divine fortune or sheer happenstance, he turned just in time to see a young wizard gesture towards the hourglasses with an ugly look on his face, then turn to glare at Neville.

Harry absently curled his fingers and dragged his nails across the table hard enough to leave marks. The other wizard went pale and quickly turned away. Harry stared at him in confusion, completely unaware of the quiet snarl he'd just released.

He turned back towards his friends and quietly muttered, "In."

"I suppose someone has to keep you out of trouble," Hermione sighed. "Besides, I'm quite used of people not liking me. This time… this time they may as well have a reason, and it may as well be a good one." She stared down at the table with a thoroughly pissed-off look on her face. "Let's see you braid my hair, you bi…" her dark mumble trailed off.

"And I suppose someone must keep you from killing anyone…" King grumbled.

"Good man," Fred cheered. "How about you, Lord Nev? Wanna show everyone your balls?"

Neville stared at him uncertainly. He really didn't like the idea of everyone hating him. He wanted to have friends. He wanted to have fun. He wanted-

Something stirred in the back of his mind.

Everyone has parts of themselves they hide, both from others and from themselves. They're parts that, for one reason or another, a person feels like they shouldn't or can't express. It might be because of a thousand different reasons, but in the end it doesn't matter. Those little pieces are there, and you can't get rid of them.

You might have been raised to be a "proper" pureblood heir with things like protocol, formalities and "proper behavior" ground into your head. You might have been trod on and pushed down your entire life. You might have been treated like a failure and a disappointment.

But no matter what happens, those hidden pieces of personality are there.

In the dark recesses of Neville's soul, the fragment of Orchid that dwelled there found one of those pieces. The fragment examined it, then gave it the spiritual equivalent of a bright smile. With a cheerful grin, she gave it a good, solid kick. The bit of personality woke and gave the fragment a confused look that was met with a happy wave. With an incorporeal shrug, it dissolved and became one with the sea of Neville's consciousness.

Something formed in the back of his mind. It wasn't a voice, or anything that refined. It wasn't even a feeling. It was barely a half-formed concept, a presence that barely existed.

Why should they judge him? They acted like they were his equals, even though he hadn't acknowledged them as such. They looked down on him, too stupid and ignorant to realize they were looking up the food chain. What right did they have to look at a predator in disgust when they were little better than cattle? They should be grateful he didn't pass judgement on them. They should thank whatever gods they held dear that he had the mercy to make their punishment so lenient.

They should suffer for their insolence.

"Guys? Fill it," Neville commanded with a vicious grin. "Fill it until it breaks."

The twins stared at him in shock for a moment, then matched his grin.

"You got it, kid."

"We shall carry out your divine will, Lord Nev."

Harry frowned. "Wait, doesn't torturing people make us bad people?"

"No," Hermione said dismissively. "They deserve it."

"Oh, okay then," he said agreeably. He opened his mouth and allowed Lady to feed him more bacon.

George was right. It was like magical bacon that appears in your mouth anytime you want bacon.

That was all the times.

 _All_ the times.

* * *

A/N:

So, I didn't actually accomplish anything I intended to accomplish in the chapter. Also, apparently Harry and the gang are waging war on the fickle masses of Hogwarts. I'm quite serious when I say that I have no idea how that happened. That really wasn't part of the plan at all. I'm really not even sure why I try to make a plan at this point.

The next chapter features poor judgement, good plans, bad plans, worse plans, quite a bit of fire, cunning linguistics, more fire, mass destruction, over-caffeinated children, one unhappy familiar, one _very_ happy familiar, and the world's smallest overlord.

I also just realized that no owls died during this breakfast. I'll have to get an extra one next time.

I'm not really sure how the whole 'dead owl' thing started. My fiance thinks an owl killed my dog or something. That's kind of weird, because I've never had a dog. Maybe the owl killed my dog before I had it, so I never had a dog?

Goddamned owls…

Oh, and one more thing. I just realized I can review my own story, so I'll be posting completely

neutral reviews from a fair standpoint from now on. You can look forward to that, because they totally won't be a blatant attempt to pimp my own story and I'm certain it won't turn into yet another place to dump a ton of random text into.  
Anyway, thanks for reading the random words my brain craps out. Hope I made you laugh.


	14. Involuntary Volunteers

Something Familiar

Chapter 14: "Involuntary Volunteers"

AKA: "Burning Passion"

* * *

Friday afternoon saw the trio attending their second Potions class. The period started out as something of a nightmare.

Snape seemed to be taking out his previous embarrassment (and thorough dressing-down at McGonagall's hands) on the first-year Gryffindors. He swooped around the room like a bat, assuming bats had hair and thought rancid grease made a great conditioner. The "teacher" seemed to take great delight in breathing down a student's neck until they made a mistake, then docking them points.

Neville quickly became a favorite target of his. The boy wasn't a great hand at brewing to begin with. He lacked the fine dexterity required to prepare the ingredients and a proper sense of timing when mixing them. He was even worse when Snape was looming over him, his hands shaking twice as much as normal.

Snape was quite pleased with the tremors and the boy's perceived fear. It was an understandable reaction given the situation. From that angle he couldn't really see Neville's white-knuckled grip on his knife, nor the deep scratch it'd left in the table.

It all came to a head when their cauldron melted, sending them scrambling out of the way. Even from the other side of the room Harry could see Snape's smirk. The jeers and laughter from the Slytherin side of the room were immediate, as were the glares of their own housemates. Losing points because you were being pressured by a scumbag teacher was one thing, but losing them because you were incompetent was another entirely.

"Hey, at least we grabbed your balls," Harry whispered, his voice lost in the sound of the sizzling puddle their cauldron became.

Hermione sighed. "Would you please not say it like that?"

Neville just sat there, staring at their former cauldron with a dark look on his face. The corner of his eye twitched as he listened to the half-heard whispers around the room.

They were laughing at him. They were mocking him. They were laughing at and mocking his _friends_ , as if they were somehow better than them. They were barely better than ignorant cattle trampling a beautiful flower.

 _Poison and thorns..._

"Hermione, why did our cauldron melt?" he asked blandly.

"You chopped the windpuff sprig too coarsely," his friend responded. "The uneven mixture caused a sever exothermic reaction."

"So coarse sprigs are bad? Like, dangerous bad?"

"Not really. The burst of heat is powerful, but extremely localized. It won't do much more than melt a cauldron. They wouldn't have us working on dangerous potions yet, you know…"

Neville suddenly looked up and gave his friends a bright smile.

"Orchid. Do it," he ordered.

A creeper slid out of his collar, whirled around and snapped like a whip. The movement sent a small cluster of objects through the air in a high arc, just as Snape turned his back. The small sticks twirled around as they fell towards the Slytherin students.

Several students looked on in confusion as their cauldrons spontaneously splashed, the result of an entire, unchopped windpuff sprig landing neatly in the center of their potion-to-be.

Every Slytherin cauldron melted.

Actually, that was selling it short by quite a measure. Coarse sprigs are bad, after all, and a whole chunk of it was about as coarse as you can get. So the Slytherin cauldrons didn't so much melt as _liquify_ , instantly becoming a cauldron-shaped mass of molten metal. The fluid sculptures immediately succumbed to gravity, sending students screaming and lurching backwards. The white-hot puddles quickly bored through the tables, leaving a hole ringed with blue flames in their wake.

"Huh. I thought these tables couldn't burn. I guess I was wrong," Neville casually observed. "Nice shot, by the way."

Orchid gave his body a cheerful squeeze.

Hermione sighed, "They're made of ironwood. It has an insanely high ignition point, but it does burn." The witch frowned as she packed her things. "Once it's on fire, it's pretty hard to put out. Breathing the smoke for a prolonged period isn't a great idea, either. I think you just cancelled class," she muttered quietly. The precaution was likely unnecessary, as it was unlikely anyone would hear them over the loud screams from the Slytherin side of the room.

"Neville? Next time you want to destroy a classroom, please tell me first…" Harry requested. "I think I almost splashed water in the boat…"

"Do you really _have_ to bring that up?"

"I didn't mean to destroy anything! Hermione said it wasn't dangerous!" Neville whispered, pointing an accusing finger at the witch.

"Well I didn't expect you to throw a _whole_ windpuff sprig into _every_ cauldron in-"

Neville's eyes widened. "No! Don't!" he cried just a little too late. Orchid's vine had already whipped out again, sending sprigs flying into the air.

Screams erupted around them as the rest of the cauldrons in the room liquefied, cutting the Gryffindors' laughter short. The sudden appearance of more flames and molten metal was the final straw. Panicked screaming suddenly turned into a mad rush for the exit. A crowd quickly built up as the Gryffindor and Slytherin students fought to leave the room.

The boys stared at Hermione.

"That was _not_ my fault!" she snapped.

"I'm pretty sure she thought you were disappointed because she missed some cauldrons," Neville groaned.

"Hermione! You should think of Orchid's feelings," Harry scolded. "Be nice and tell her she did a good job."

"Well…" Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Class is over and I'm pretty sure no one can blame us. All the evidence is a little too on fire to be evidence. So… good job? I guess?"

"Good. Do you think they're serving lunch yet?" Harry asked. "I kind of want barbeque now…"

"I'm pretty sure they're not serving lunch yet, Harry. Let's just go study or something for now," Hermione requested.

"And maybe not set anything else on fire," Neville mumbled. "I can't believe I just ignited a classroom…"

Harry squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay, Neville. You just had a little 'oops' is all. It happens."

"I'm not sure that burning down part of a school is one of those things that 'just happens' to people. It is pretty impressive, though," Hermione stated. She paused, then groaned, "Wonderful. We're going to have to wait for that to clear up before we can do much of anything at all," and pointed at the small riot.

"You know, Fred and George are probably going to be jealous. We've burned down more classrooms than them," Harry giggled. Suddenly, his face went pale. "Uh… you don't think they'll… you know… try to beat us, do you?"

"Don't even joke about that," Hermione ordered. "Do either of you know where my red quill is?"

Neville pointed at the feather sticking out of their puddle of molten pewter. "It was next to the cauldron when it mysteriously melted."

The three first-years examined the quill for a moment.

"Why isn't it on fire?" Harry inquired.

"You're seriously complaining that something _isn't_ on fire?" Hermione huffed. "I'm pretty sure we have an adequate amount of fire at the moment, Harry."

"But… it's just a quill…" Harry protested. "It's a feather floating in a puddle of metal. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be on fire."

Hermione bit her lip as she stared at the writing implement. "Maybe is't a magic quill? Granted, making a quill fireproof wouldn't be the first thing I thought of as a useful addition, but wizards are clearly quite mad. Maybe wizarding quills don't burn."

Both muggle-raised children gave their wizard-born friend inquiring looks.

"Uh, you guys realize I've never actually tried to set a quill on fire, right? I've never actually looked at a quill and thought 'gee, this would be better on fire' before," Neville protested.

Hermione reached over, snatched Harry's quill of the desk and tossed it into the pool. It immediately burst into flame and vanished. Belatedly, she asked, "Harry, can I borrow your quill?"

"You're supposed to ask that first, you know."

"Yes, but then you wouldn't have let me throw it in the fire puddle," Hermione pointed out as she fished around in her bag. "It was for _science_ , Harry."

"Magic," corrected Neville.

"Right. Magic. I've got to get used to that, I suppose. Ah, here we are!" she exclaimed. She extracted a ballpoint pen from her bag and tossed it into the pool. The pen, unsurprisingly, instantly melted into the pool and became nothing.

"Hermione, why did you think the pen wouldn't burn?"

"I didn't, Harry. That was just a control test. It was also because I hated that color, but it was part of a stationary set my parents gave me as a gift. Now I can honestly say I dropped it and lost it."

"...right. I guess you did both drop it and lose it. It's technically true."

"Technically," Hermione happily agreed.

"Uh, guys? People aren't punching each other any more. We should probably leave," Neville pointed out.

"But… the quill!" Hermione protested.

"We probably shouldn't be playing with a puddle of molten metal anyway, Hermione. I mean, why waste time with that when we have sticks that can set _anything_ on fire whenever we feel like setting something on fire? Also, melted metal might be dangerous. But mainly the fire thing."

"...I do have another red quill. Do you think Fred and George will teach us how to ignite it?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Will Fred and George teach a bunch of eleven-year-olds how to set things on fire at will…?"

"Yep." "Yeah." "Definitely."

"Alright, fine. But we'll have to get another cauldron. Oh, and another one to actually use after we melt that one," Hermione agreed. She casually tossed a roll of parchment into the puddle and watched it burn. "Yup. Parchment burns."

"Hermione, why would you think-"

Another roll of parchment went up in flames.

"What?" Hermione demanded as her friends stared at her. "The first one might have been an anomaly."

"Are you just doing that because throwing things into the instant-fire pool is amusing?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

"...no."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, we agreed not to play with the cauldron. Well, former cauldron."

Hermione pouted, but slipped an inkwell back into her bag.

Neville examined the puddle speculatively. "Hey, do you think wizarding diaries are fireproof? Gran got me a really ugly one for my last birthday…"

Harry gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "There's only one way to find out, Neville. We'll get the twins to teach us a fire spell tonight. There might even be more than one!"

"Sacrifices must be made for science!" Hermione added.

"Magic," Neville and Harry corrected her together.

"Right. That one."

The trio finished packing their things and made their way out of the room, debating how they could break the news to the twins without turning it into some sort of competition.

"Do you think this would make decent blackmail material?" Blaise asked curiously as he watched them go.

"You need some sort of proof to blackmail someone, Blaise," Daphne pointed out. She frowned slightly as she watched the slowly-expanding ring of blue flames. "What are we still doing here? I don't really have any empirical evidence to support it, but I doubt we'd enjoy being on fire."

"Panicking now would be a waste of valuable effort. Ironwood takes a bit to build up steam. Of course, if we're still here at that point, it's pretty much 'account closed' for us."

"So why _are_ we here?" Daphne demanded. Just a hint of annoyance crept into her voice.

Blaise looked at her in surprise. "Uh… we were waiting for the last witnesses to leave. Getting caught raiding the materials cabinet would probably result in penalties I'd rather not pay."

"...we're stealing potions materials?" Daphne asked blandly.

"Everything's on fire anyway," Blaise pointed out with a shrug. "We're salvaging the ruins. We just happen to be doing it before they're actually ruins. It's much more efficient and profitable that way."

"..."

"There's valuable stuff in there, Daph! What's the point in letting it burn when I could be selling it instead?"

"Blaise, I don't think- eek!" Daphne squeaked in surprise as something cold brushed her foot. Suddenly it was like her entire leg had been dunked in ice water.

Both Slytherins looked down just in time to see Snow crawl between their chairs and plunge her hand into the molten puddle that was once their cauldron. There was a hiss as the glowing, white metal quickly cooled and returned to its normal color.

"Warm…" Snow sighed. The snow woman began to climb to her feet, only to be brought up short. She looked down to where her hand was embedded in a blob of hardened metal that had fused itself to the floor. Looking up at her master helplessly she whimpered, "I'm stuck…"

"Ah. This is something of a setback…"

"You see what happens when you get greedy?" Daphne scolded him.

Blaise gave her a confused look. "Your familiar uses a molten cauldron to adhere herself to the floor? I wasn't aware that was a common problem…"

"You know what I- Don't!"

Snow, stretching as far as she could, plunged her free hand into the next cauldron over. There was a happy sigh, after which she fruitlessly tried to withdraw her limb.

"I'm stuck…" she announced again, her face pressed against the floor.

"I'm starting to think this plan may not end up being profitable," Blaise sighed. "Do we have sufficient resources to remove my familiar from the floor?"

Daphne nodded and sighed, "If properly applied, yes." She turned toward the back corner of the room, where Sparkles was asleep with his back against the wall. "Sparkles. Wake up and do something useful."

A deep snore escaped the familiar's lips.

"Sparkle! Wake up!" she demanded in a much louder and slightly annoyed tone.

Blaise stared at her in surprise and took a step back. Given how little the Greengrass' expressed themselves, a cry like that normally meant they were considering removing your head from your shoulders, beating your dog to death with your cat and setting your home on fire with your collection of vintage pornography still inside..

"Wake! Up!" she snapped, punctuating each word by stomping on the asura's thigh. When that failed to work, she gave him an annoyed glare. "Fine. It's clear being polite will accomplish nothing. Blaise, let me borrow your familiar for a second."

"Uh, sure… Snow, do what she says, okay? Preferably before she decides to kill someone."

"But… I'm stuck…"

"That's okay. You don't need to be able to move," Daphne reassured her. "Just lift your leg up. Now move it to the side. No, the other way. Just a bit higher. Perfect. Now, stick out your foot as far as it will go."

Snow extended her leg.

A dainty, white foot pressed against a very small piece of fabric. Blaise stared in horror as the snow woman's bare flesh came into contact with Sparkles' crotch.

Sparkles' eyes shot open with a surprised cry of, "Gyark!" He shoved himself back and up into the corner, powerful legs pressing him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone. Slamming his hands back, he managed to dig his fingers straight into the wall. He quickly shot up to the ceiling, climbing like a spider.

"Awake now?" Daphne asked in a smug tone Blaise was certain her parents wouldn't approve of.

" _Th' hell!?_ Ya tryin' ta freeze my damn balls off!?" Sparkles demanded from his perch by the ceiling.

"Maybe you'll wake when I call for you in the future. If you think you can manage that, I'm certain this won't happen again."

"Ya seriously tryin' ta use torture 'n threats ta get yer way?"

"...yes?"

"Oh. 'S good!" he declared. Releasing the wall, he plummeted down to the floor with a crash. The flagstones cracked and split around his feet. Towering over Daphne, he gave her a grin. "Now yer speakin' my language. Whaddaya need, Boss?"

"Snow managed to get herself stuck. Get her free," Daphne ordered, pointing at the snow woman.

"That's your idea of proper application of our assets?" Blaise demanded in disbelief. "Saying, 'Get her free' and pointing?"

"It doesn't matter how a conclusion is reached so long as it is correct. Why would it matter how I accomplish something, so long as it is accomplished?" she responded. Turning to Sparkles, she asked in a firm tone, "It _will_ be accomplished, right?"

The asura stared down at Blaise's familiar. The girl was laying spread-eagle on the ground. Her arms were stretched as far as they would go, both hands embedded to the wrist in a pile of metal that no longer even remotely resembled pewter. Her face was pressed firmly to the floor, and every now and then she'd whimper as she tugged at one of her trapped arms.

"Can we just leave 'er here? That'd be a lot less work," he suggested.

"Sparkles…"

"What? 'S not like a li'l fire's gonna hurt 'er. She'll prob'ly like it," he answered reasonably.

The Slytherins thought about that for a moment.

"She doesn't look very comfortable, and I'm not certain her clothing is as fireproof as she is," Blaise finally offered. "Until the new garments I ordered arrive, it's too valuable to let it be destroyed."

"Right. Makes sense. So, how many pieces you want 'er in? I can defin'ly manage three 'r more."

"Just get her out in one piece and unharmed. _Now_ ," Daphne ordered, kicking her familiar in the ankle. She immediately winced as it became readily apparent she would have been better off kicking a stone wall.

Blaise took another cautious step backwards. Then he decided to take two more, just to be safe.

"Right, right," Sparkles chuckled. He lashed out and slammed his foot into the worktable. The piece of flaming furniture was torn out of the floor, launched across the classroom and slammed into the chalkboard. Sparkles wandered around the trapped familiar to stand on the next tier down, right by her head. "Yer a damn slavedriver, y'know that?"

The snow woman twisted her neck so she could more or less look at him. "Help…?" she asked hopefully.

"Yer damn lucky it ain't my call…" the asura muttered. He leaned forward and pressed the fingers of all his hands against the metal surrounding hers. "Normally I'd warn ya this might sting a bit, but unfortun'ly I don't think tha's the case…"

With a grunt, Sparkles flexed his arms. Daphne and Blaise watched in surprise the veins in his limbs started glowing. His fingers sunk slightly as the metal around them began to melt.

Snow let out a happy sigh.

"What the heck?"

"Ya think I was kiddin' when I said asura were hot-blooded, Boss?" Sparkles responded, frowning. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed down harder. His fingers sank a bit more as the glow in his veins intensified. There was a slight sizzle as the asura's heat battled the snow woman's cold.

Another quiet, pleased noise escaped Snow's lips. This one didn't sound even remotely appropriate. It would probably be a lot more accurate to call it a moan than a sigh.

Suddenly Sparkles straightened and withdrew his hands, earning a protesting whimper.

"She ain't commin' outta that crap, Boss. She's suckin' it as fast as I can give it," Sparkles announced.

Blaise snorted, then quickly looked away when Daphne glared at him. She'd been acting a bit off since they'd arrived at Hogwarts. He really didn't want to piss her off, largely in part because she wasn't supposed to be _able_ to get pissed off. Greengrass family frowned upon anything that hampered your judgement. That, of course, included anything even resembling strong emotion.

"The flames are changing color. I'm afraid time is rapidly becoming a scarce commodity," Blaise pointed out.

"You really _can't_ get her out?" Daphne demanded.

Blaise took yet another step away from her. He was now nearly halfway to the door. Just in case.

"I told'ja, 'd be real easy if I could do it 'n pieces," the asura pointed out reasonably. "Yer forgettin' 'm an asura. 'M real good at breakin' stuff, but… Hey, 's it okay if she comes wit' some extra pieces on 'er?"

"What are you-"  
Without further warning, the asura bought his arms down. Closed fists hammered the floor in a tight circle around Snow's hands. Daphne could actually feel the impact shaking the floor. Snow let out a frightened squeak as the stone cracked and shattered around her.

"Spakles! Why-"

Her familiar grabbed Snow by the ankles and hips (earning another pleased noise), then dug his remaining hands into the metal lumps. In one smooth motion he hauled her off the floor, her legs extended upwards and the heavy hunks of cauldron supported by his lower hands.

Snow's kimono fell down around her torso.

"Huh. She doesn't," Blaise observed.

Daphne sighed. "Honestly Blaise? I arrived at that conclusion just hours after you summoned her. It was quite obvious, if you look at the evidence."

Sparkles frowned at her white cheeks and quickly spun Snow around, supporting her hips, waist and pewter lumps. "It's bad enough I gotta look at yer ass without havin' ta look at yer ass."

Snow sighed again as she stared down at her master with a serene expression.

"Blaise? Your familiar seems to have come… dislodged," Daphne pointed out.

The wizard nodded. "Yes, I had noticed that. You know, she has a rather attractive figure. Perhaps I should have her model for one of mother's new clothing lines…"

"Blaise…"

"For that matter, I wonder if Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom would be willing to sell me the services of their familiars as well. We have had quite acceptable relations with both houses in the past. Well, until the past few generations, at least."

"Blaise."

"Now, Daphne, it's important to represent all manner of body types in a catalogue. Ms. Angel and Ms. Orchid will make excellent models for the far ends of the spectrum."

"Blaise!"

"Yes?" Blaise asked, looking up at her in confusion.

"The fire, Blaise. You _do_ remember the fire, right?"

The wizard looked around curious. The majority of the classroom was now a raging inferno, and the fire was quickly picking up in both speed and temperature.

"Oh, yes. That. You know, you could have simply left. Remaining here with me was not exactly a beneficial enterprise on your part," he declared.

"Don't be an idiot."

"Well, now we're both mixed up in a bad deal, aren't we? There seems to be quite a bit more fire around the door than there used to be."

Daphne sighed. "I don't know how you can be so smart about some things and so dumb about others. Like anything else, you simply have to assess your resources and apply them properly," she scolded. Gesturing towards the exit she announced, "Sparkles. I want to go through that door."

"Proper application of resources is telling your familiar to solve the problem for you? Again?" Blaise demanded.

"If it works, it was the proper way to do it," Daphne declared. She gestured towards Sparkles. "Well?"

"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered. He marched up to the brilliant yellow flames surrounding the doorway and, without even the slightest hint of hesitation, shoved Snow into it face-first.

The fire went out.

Snow made a noise that suggested something _extremely_ inappropriate had just happened.

"Oh dear…" Blaise mumbled. "You know, at times I wish fewer resources had been allocated to my education. I have a feeling I'd be quite a bit less disturbed right now."  
"It's just another biological function, Blaise. It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Daphne countered. There was a distinct red tinge to her cheeks.

Sparkles marched back up to them with an extremely annoyed look on this face. In his grip, Snow stared down at her master with a dazed look on her face. The asura thrust her at him menacingly.

"This ain't happenin' again. You got that? It _ain't_ happenin' again!" he growled. "Next time somethin' like this happens, 'm gonna throw 'er _through_ the wall to make a hole for ya."

"Uh… yeah… Blaise?"

"Yes Daph?"

"The kimono wasn't fireproof, Blaise."  
"Now that you mention it, I was just noticing that myself. I'm a bit disappointed. Inherently fireproof fabric would have sold well," he sighed. "And how does that work, anyway? Shouldn't she have just absorbed any fire on the fabric?"

"The heat must have passed through her clothing on the way to her skin," Daphne decided. "I suppose it makes sense. Those were hot flames, and the heat has to get to her somehow."

"Well, now we have one less kimono, an additional naked familiar and no school supplies. It'd seem we're at a net loss."

"I told you this was- What? Why wouldn't we have school supplies?"

Blaise shrugged. "Because your familiar kicked everything that was still on our desk straight into the inferno, and our bags have been on fire for a while now."

"...and you didn't feel the need to say something?"

He shrugged again. "Well, it was hardly worth mentioning, was it? It's a bit difficult to write on parchment that's on fire using a quill that's on fire dipped in an inkwell that, surprisingly, also on fire. Not to mention the fact that we'd have to get past the fire to remove the burning supplies from our bags. Which are on fire."

"Yes, Blaise, I get it. Let's just… throw our robes over Snow and see if we can find Professor McGonagall. She'll be able to transmute that stuff off her hands."

"Effective, with little cost to us. An excellent idea," Blaise eagerly agreed. "Hopefully we'll sort this out before they start serving lunch. Suddenly I want barbeque quite badly."

Daphne had a suddenly, nearly overwhelming desire to punch her friend in a sensitive region. As if in response to the urge, Sparkles began to chuckle.

* * *

Things weren't looking good. They weren't looking good at all.

Neville was complete rubbish at all their current subjects aside from herbology. Charms, DADA and transfiguration were somewhat beyond him. The correct wand movements, the pronunciation and the timing of the two were all very difficult for him to grasp. Even with copious amounts of aid from both Harry and Hermione, he barely completed the second class' assignment before the end of the period.

Bizarrely, he was quite good at both the rather difficult subjects of arithmancy and runes. In fact, he was so good at them that it was a bit shocking. It seemed an enormous amount of free time and the drive to please someone who would never be pleased had paid off in spades. Even the twins were impressed, especially since several of their fellow third-years were complaining about the subjects after only two classes.

It helped that he was observant enough to quickly spot errors and seemed to have a natural talent for seeing how things should fit together. The fact that he could easily and accurately decide which of the seventeen runes for 'fire' he should use meant he spent far less time looking at charts and dictionaries than normal.

The first runic circle he finished had earned him amazed looks and gratuitous amounts of praise from the Weasley twins. Neville had spent a full five minutes just staring at his work and quietly mumbling the word "Useless" repeatedly. Just as his friends were beginning to grow worried, mouth had opened into a fairly frightening grin.

" _Useless…?_ "

The last repetition of the word was quite a bit louder and in a significantly different tone.

Hermione did in fact have excellent recall. It wasn't quite a photographic memory, but she had a definite knack for remembering the important parts of whatever she read, along with a smattering of minuta relating to those topics. Coupled with a reading speed that came pretty close to being inhuman, it made her something like a walking, talking version of CliffsNotes.

Harry, on the other hand, was a little bit different. He was pretty mediocre once you averaged out all his subjects. That was ignoring Herbology, of course, during which he huddled near Orchid and occasionally poked a plant with a long stick. But as the twins tested them with more advanced material, his aptitude decreased in every subject. By the time they reached material from the end of first year, he qualified as 'not quite adequate' at most. He'd most likely improve as he received a better understanding to of the basics, but he was a far cry from Hermione. She had a definite talent for understanding the advanced material and spells - even though she couldn't cast them yet - that he lacked.

There was only one thing they found that he excelled at. He took to the Immolation Spell like a duck to water, but showed no real aptitude other than that..

His real value laid in the fact that, although he was such a nice person, he was extremely creative in the worst possible ways. During their planning sessions he proved himself to be surprisingly devious..

In addition to that, they quickly learned he was very difficult to locate when he didn't want to be found. Perhaps it was a skill learned from avoiding Vernon and Dudley, but he could move about incredibly quietly. Given dim lighting and a small amount of cover, it was exceedingly difficult to detect him. Several games of something resembling hide-and-seek had ended with the twins being tagged before spotting him almost every time.

Needless to say, the Weasleys were pretty much over the moon. They were quite vocal about congratulating themselves for adopting the picks of the litter. While it was pretty obvious Harry and Neville would need to do quite a bit of studying in the future, their skills were ideal for the task at hand.

So, things weren't looking very good at all. In fact, the situation was quite dire.

For Hogwarts.

* * *

"Move them," Harry said suddenly.

He was gathered with his friends, huddled around a table in the Gryffindor common room. The group had been clustered there for an hour, trying to solve a fairly major problem. Luckily, it was Sunday. There'd be no classes tomorrow because it was Registration Day, so burning the midnight oil wouldn't be a problem.

His friends looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?" George asked.

"We don't want people figuring out where the traps are and avoiding them, right?" Harry inquired. "So we move them. No one'll find them if they get moved."

"We talked about this, Harry. Making a trap that moves itself and moving them manually are both way too much work," Hermione protested. "It'd take forever and a day to make just one, let alone a whole bunch of them."

"No, no. Not the trap. The _people_ ," Harry clarified. "If we just curse a flagstone, everyone'll figure it out quick. But if it doesn't do anything at first, people'll be all over the place when it goes off."

"Makes sense. How'll people figure it out if everyone starts popping up with pink hair all over the place," Fred agreed with a thoughtful look on his face.

George stared down at the table as he drummed his fingers against the wooden surface. "We're talking some kind of delayed-reaction potion here. Something we can apply to people on demand without them knowing it. It'd have to be an inhaled or contact potion, and we'd need some way to hide it and deliver it on demand."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Is… is that even possible?" Neville hesitantly asked.

"It's actually not that hard to change the application method of a potion," Fred declared.

George added, "People just don't do it because normal potions are easier to make and use."

"And there's the problem. Either way, we need to expose the victim to enough potion for it to take effect."

"Uh, can we not call them victims?" Harry asked. "I mean, that makes us sound kind of bad."

"Harry's right. We're on the side of justice. We don't have victims," Hermione agreed.

"Prey?"

"That's… actually worse, Fred.

"Suckers?"

"Marks?"

"Patsies?"

"Quarry?"

"Sacrifices?"

"Okay, that one's _definitely_ worse."

"Sitting ducks?"

"Soft targets?"

"Involuntary volunteers?"

"Ooh, I like that one," Harry declared.

"Me too," agreed Neville.

George scratched his head in confusion. "But, does that even make sense? What're they volunteering for?"

"Justice," Hermione answered firmly. "They're volunteering for justice, Fred."

"George."

"Are you certain?"

"About ninety percent. And you called Fred 'Fred' not five minutes ago. It's pretty hard to believe you don't know which one I am."

Harry suggested, "You might be Bob."

"Yes, there is always that possibility…"

"Anyway, the point stands. They're involuntarily volunteering to be… justiced, I guess?" Hermione finished lamely. "That doesn't quite sound right…"

Fred nodded solemnly. "They're involunteering to be justiced. I kind of like that."

"That's not what I-"

"Alright!" Fred cheered. "Who's good with nailing those nasty involunteers with some good ol' fashioned justiceding?"

Harry, Neville, Fred and George immediately raised a hand and cried, "Aye!"

Another "Aye," came from King who had, until just now, been silently protesting the entire situation. Seeing his comrades staring at him, he muttered, "What? It is quite poetic, and a rather clever play on words."

"Is it really okay to be so loud about this?" Hermione demanded.

"Ah, Lady Hermness, privacy spells are a wonderful thing," George comforted her.

"Yeah, so stop stalling," Fred ordered. "Let's hear it."

"Fine. We are now justiceding involunteers with all our skill and might," Hermione sighed. "Now that we've wasted five minutes, could we please get back to the actual point of this meeting?"

"The point was that the more subtle application types are a lot harder to apply. A person has to get a certain amount of potion in them for it to work," George explained.

"It's not like we can just walk up to someone and ask them to stand in a cloud of potion vapor until it finally takes effect," Fred pointed out. "That's kind of the opposite of subtle, which makes the subtle potion a bit less than subtle."

"Can we give them sticky balls?" Harry asked. He quickly flushed when the rest of the table stared at him like he'd just grown a third head. "I mean, Fred's balls were lemon flavored, right?"

"Lime," Fred corrected. "With subtle overtones of raspberry and a hint of grape."

"I am _not_ going to ask how you know, that, brother."

"No, what I mean is… You said the lollipops were potions, and you said you can make potions work when they touch someone," Harry clarified. "Can you give them sticky balls that did something?"

Fred gave him a pat on the head. "Harry, if your balls are sticky, they probably _already_ did something."

"Fred, you can be quite disgusting…" Hermione muttered in - you guessed it - disgust.

Fred gave her an affronted look. "I am not.. And, by the way, I'm George."

"No you're not. If you're going to pretend to be your brother, at least trade places or something," Hermione sighed. "Besides, I doubt George would actually say something like that."

The twins gasped.

"You mean… you mean we're different people? I'd do something he wouldn't?" Fred whispered in mock horror.

George shook his head in denial. "That's impossible. We look the same. We _must_ be the same person."

"Even if we _weren't_ the same person, how could someone we've known for three days know that?"

"Why, our own mother can't tell us apart half the time."

"Of course, the fact that you've talked to us more in three days than our mother does in a month might have something to do with it," Fred muttered.

"That's not true at all, George. Why, just the other day she was telling us how disappointed she was."

"Was this before or after that time she said she was disappointed in us?"

"No, no. I meant the one between that time she said she was disappointed in and the time she said she was disappointed in us."

"Ooh, _that_ one," George gasped, as if receiving some great revelation.

"Wow. Pent-up resentment, much?" Hermione muttered.

"Wait… it makes you upset that people can't tell you apart, but it's okay that King calls you both Red?" Neville asked.

"Oh, the king can tell us apart perfectly well."

"Yup. Listen real close and you can tell who he's talking to by how he says it."

"He just started called us that when we first met and just never stopped."

"I think it's habit."

"And _I_ think he's clinging to it because that's about as close to a joke as he'll get."

"I believe I have told you both many times. I am quite aware of the concept of humor."

"Of course, King. Of course," George condescendingly reassured him. "Anyway, about Harry's sticky balls."

"Can we not refer to them like that?" Hermione pleaded.

"It's a really good idea. If we can make something that sticks to their skin or even gets in their clothes, we don't have to rely on them staying still until it takes effect," George plowed on.

"The delayed onset will actually be helpful," Fred added. "Ten people can get hit by the same trap, but they'll all be in different places when the effect hits. Even the delay will vary, since it'll depend on exposure and a bunch of other stuff."

"Could we make a really fine powder or some sort of aerosol?" Hermione asked.

"A really fine powder would be best. If the grains were small enough, they could work into cloth and they'd be really hard to detect. We can make a powder more concentrated than a mist, and the involunteer's own heat and sweat will melt it," George theorized.

"It does get swampy under these robes," Fred added.

"So, how do we deliver it?"

"The floor," Harry suggested. "If it goes straight up into their robes, it'll get right on their clothes and no one will see it happen."

"So how do we cover someone's swampy balls with goo?" Fred inquired.

"I- I think I can…" Neville said hesitantly.

"Go ahead, Neville," Harry prompted. "We want to hear."

"Expanded trunks use runes carved into the middle of the wood, where you can't see them. They figure out the right phrasing, then use numerology to put the runes in the right spots. It's really not as hard as everyone seems to think, and once you figure out the right alignment, you can use it over and over."

"So everyone who buys those trunks is getting screwed?" George asked curiously.

"Not really. You still have to carve and activate the array. But a flat array is even easier than a trunk. All we'd have to do is make a little hole and expand it a lot. I think I can figure out how to make it tell if someone's above it and squirt the ball powder, too."

"You do, of course, realize that simply carving a rune array into the floor is quite far from subtle, do you not?"

Again, the rest of the table stared at him in surprise.

"King, buddy… I thought you weren't helping?" Fred asked.

"I am _not_ helping. I am simply pointing out the obvious. The array would quickly be noticed and even if it was not, Hogwarts would simply heal the etching over."

"No, it wouldn't," Hermione disputed, "In _The Definitive G-_ "

"Whoa, Hermness. Hold up," George ordered, holding up a hand. "We don't need to know where it's from or any of that crap. If you know it and you're confident it's right, then that's good enough. Anyone disagree?"

George's question was met with a deafening silence.

"Ah- I- Uh-" After several false starts, Hermione settled for staring at the table while turning an impressive shade of red.

"So, what've you got, Lady Hermness?" Fred asked curiously.

"Basically, Hogwarts was made to allow alterations. If we can convince the castle the array is supposed to be there, it won't be touched."

"Can we make a little hole and put the potion mine in that?"

Fred gave him a curious look. "What's a 'potion mine,' Harry?"

"It's what we're making. It sounds a lot cooler than saying, 'array' over and over."

"I like that," Neville agreed. "Potion mines sound like exactly what you need when your justiceding involunteers."

There was a general muttering of assent.

"So why dig a hole, Harry? It'd just get filled in," Hermione inquired.

"Exactly. That's what they do with the trunks, right? Neville said they put everything _in_ the wood so you don't have to see it. When the castle heals, it'll cover the potion mine all by itself."

Everyone else gave him clearly impressed looks.

"Harry, buddy… have you destabilized governments before or something?" Fred asked. "Because if you have, there's no need to hold out on us."

This time it was Harry's turn to blush.

"So, that sounds like a great plan. There's one minor problem," George declared.

The three-first years looked at him curiously.

"Supplies," Fred stated. "Buying them and getting them into the school."

"Oh, I can see how that would be a problem…" Hermione muttered.

"I have money," Harry stated. "A lot. But I guess the headmaster watches it all and has to say it's okay for me to use it."

Fred sighed, "Of course the answer wouldn't be easy."

"We'd have to trick All-Lust into giving us money _and_ smuggle it into school. I don't know about you guys, but that's a bit out of my scope…" George added.

"Oh? That's almost a little surprising," Hermione stated.

"Hermness… sneaking some contraband into school in your trunk is one thing. Actual smuggling and fraud are some seriously shady business…"

Harry stared down at the table, frowning in thought. Something about George's words had just given him a very bad idea.

* * *

"Guys, I think we might have a problem…" Neville announced.

"Is it the fact that we should be waking up soon, but we haven't gone to sleep?" Harry inquired.

"Probably also a problem, but no."

Hermione hummed as she pondered. "Is it that tomorrow is Registration Day, but my familiar seems to have jumped ship?"

"Definitely a problem, but also no."

"Our decision to deliberately drive people insane to satisfy our personal grudges?"

"I feel surprisingly good about that, actually."  
"How about the fact that we intend to destabilize an entire academic institution because it conflicts with our personal values?"  
"No, I feel pretty good about that too."

"Maybe it's the fact that we don't know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop."

"Between 144 and 252, depending on who you listen to," Hermione announced. "My personal average is 221.7 after 87 pops."

"Oh, never mind. If it's not that, I bet it has something to do with the fact that our friends and apparent role models have no problem teaching us potentially dangerous spells?"

"Getting warmer."

"Is it that even though he learned it yesterday, Harry's affinity for the Incineration Spell is so high that it's a little scary?"

"A lot warmer."

"Uh… the fact that we don't have any cauldrons to use in our next Potions class?"

"That _is_ a problem, and pretty close to what I'm thinking of."

"That no one in either of our dorm rooms has a cauldron to use in our next Potions class?"

"Did they see you take them? Did their familiars see? Can they talk?"

"No, yes and no, respectively."

"Same on our end. Not a problem."

"Eh, we won't be having a Potions class until the school replaces all the ingredients and equipment, anyway."

"Is it the fact that Hermione's parents think it's okay to send an eleven-year-old to school with a case of energy drinks?"

"I _like_ them. Blue Stallion gives you balls!"

"No. I liked them too. They make me feel all buzzy."

"Is the problem that I _don't_ have a case of Blue Stallion anymore?"

"Uh, not really."

"Yes it is, Neville. That was supposed to last me two weeks. Now I have none until my parents send more."

"I know! We're probably dangerously close to a fatal caffeine overdose! Is that the problem?"

"Not the one I was thinking of…"

"Harry, stop bouncing. You're making me nauseous."

"I'm pretty sure you're nauseous because you crammed toi much Stallion into yourself."

"For some reason I feel like I should be glad Orchid wasn't here to hear that," Neville sighed.

"Is it the fact that I now want to sit down and lick 87 tootsie pops?"

"I think that's probably just weird, Harry."

"It would be nice to compare data. I have a strong suspicion that the results are based on one's licking technique."

"I think I'm probably glad Orchid didn't hear that either."

"Oh! I've got it!" Harry yelled triumphantly. "It's the enormous puddle of molten metal sitting in the middle of our common room!"

Neville examined the enormous puddle of molten metal that was sitting in the middle of their common room. "Yeah, I'm thinking that's probably it. In fact, I'm certain that's it. This isn't exactly how I planned to spend the end of my weekend, guys."

"Technically it's the beginning of your week at this point. I'm pretty sure we popped into Monday a few hours ago."

Hermione also surveyed the giant, glowing mess on the floor. "I don't really see how this is a problem. There isn't a single rule against pouring several dozen kilograms of molten pewter on your common room floor. Or anywhere else, for that matter."

"Really? There isn't?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I checked. Not a single one. It seems like something of a glaring oversight, really."

"Hermione," Neville groaned. "That's because no sane person would even _think_ there needed to be a rule for that… Normal people don't do things like that."

"Normal people don't melt a pile of cauldrons by waving a stick. Besides, we were responsible. We pushed all the furniture against the walls and moved the rugs," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like we did something irresponsible."

Harry gave her a skeptical look. "Uh, Hermione? Maybe you missed the enormous puddle of molten metal in the middle of our common room…"

"Oh, I see it. I just refuse to admit that the pool of molten death is the result of poor decisions on our part."

"So… what part of gathering every cauldron we could find and having Harry melt them all at the same time _isn't_ a poor decision?" Neville asked.

Harry frowned. "I have to admit, I _am_ kind of questioning that now. A little."

"Well? What part of that seemed responsible?"

"..."

"Hermione?"

"Give me a second!"

"The part where it was awesome!" Harry supplied.

Hermione grinned and pointed at the pool. " _Yes_! That part."

"Well… it was pretty awesome…" Neville grudgingly admitted.

"You're right, though," Hermione announced. "We can't do this again."

Neville sighed.

"I mean, it'll take forever if we wait for everyone to get new cauldrons. We'll have to use something else next time."

"Or steal them from the upper-years," Harry added. "Which might not be a good idea. Especially since a bunch of cauldrons have already mysteriously disappeared."

"Mysteriously," Hermione agreed sagely.

"..."

"How about the goblets? I bet we could get a lot of goblets from the Great Hall," Harry suggested.

Hermione considered it. "Not a bad idea, but I think they're made of pewter too. We should find something that isn't made of pewter."

"The silverware. It's made of silver… I think? I mean, it's silverware..." Harry suggested. "I bet it'll melt all shiny."

"Guys…"

"And there's lots of rocks outside. We could melt rocks!" Harry continued.

Hermione's eyes widened in wonder. "There's a _lot_ of rocks outside. It's practically an infinite supply. We could melt a _ton_ of rocks…."

"We shouldn't be melting random crap!" Neville broke in. "Someone could get hurt!"

The pair considered that.

"I guess… if someone came down stairs and they were half-asleep… they could just kind of…"  
"Go 'splash' and 'sizzle' before they realized?" Harry suggested.

With a regretful sigh, Hermione agreed, "Yeah, that."

"No, I meant one of _us_ could get hurt!"

Harry stared at him. "Uh, does that mean it's okay with you if someone who _isn't_ us gets hurt?"

"Not really, but… It's a giant pool of glowing, molten metal," he pointed out in an abashed tone. "Who just walks into something like that? It's really not the sort of thing you go and do."

"I know I wouldn't expect others to feel bad for me if I did something foolish like that," Hermione agreed. "Half-asleep or not, it's pretty hard to miss. It's not even near the stairs."

"Hermione's right, though. It'd be bad if someone got hurt. There's probably a rule about causing the horrific death of another student," Harry announced.

"There is. Someone got expelled for it around half a century ago," Hermione confirmed.

"I kind of feel like… some really terrible stuff happens in our school," Harry decided. "It kind of worries me I like it better here anyway..."  
"Agreed on both counts."

"Yeah, me too."

"I would feel pretty bad if that happened, even if it was their fault. I mean, I don't really want to hurt anyone, even if it's an accident."

"But you're okay with inflicting horrible, possibly emotionally-scarring embarrassment and confusion that could lead to widespread panic and chaos?" Neville asked him.

"Sure. A little emotional trauma never hurt anyone. Just look at us. We're fine," Harry announced.

"...you and Hermione were just laughing hysterically as you melted a pile of stolen cauldrons and turned them into a molten sea of death that covers three-quarters of the common room."

"It's closer to four-fifths, actually," Hermione corrected.

"You guys kind of scare me,' Neville mumbled. "Is this some sort of muggle thing? Do you just go around setting things on fire?"

Pondering that, Harry quickly assessed his memories of Dudley's gang frying ants with a magnifying glass, lighting bits of newspaper on fire with a stolen lighter, chasing him with burning sticks, trying to set one of Mr. Figg's cats ablaze and being brought to the hospital after they "found" a can of petrol.

"I think so," he said agreeably. "At least the boys do."

"And I've been told quite often I don't act like a girl, so I think it's all perfectly normal." Giving him a comforting squeeze, Hermione reassured him, "Don't worry, Neville. If we set someone on fire, of course it wouldn't be you."

"Not on purpose, anyway. You were standing _way_ too close to that pile of cauldrons when they suddenly decided to become a puddle," Harry added. "You should probably watch out for that."

"...guys? Who said anything about setting someone on fire?"

Hermione looked at him, clearly agast. "Setting someone on fire? Neville, what a terrible thing to say! Who in the world said anything about setting someone on fire? Harry, did you say something like that?"

"Nope. I'm about 107% percent sure you didn't either. With an 80% margin of error," Harry replied. "That makes me 40=(x-15+)*2+10 percent sure."

His friends stared at him.

"What? Sometimes you just have to read what's handy, you know?" Harry said defensively. He stared back at them for a moment, then giggled. "Algebra's _so_ weird. They turn letters into number, guys. _Numbers_!"

"Right… Of course, now that Neville's brought that terrible subject up… If I _were_ to set someone on fire, it would be someone that said I should do something about my ugly hair, and that I should cover my hideous freckles with makeup, and that sleeps in the bed next to me, and has a name that rhymes with 'lavender' and just doesn't know when to stop bugging me about reading books…"

"Ooh, is it Lavender? I bet you want to set Lavender on fire!" Harry guessed with a grin.

"You know, Harry, you really ought to take up Divination when you can," Hermione suggested. Taking in Neville's horrified look, she sighed. "I was kidding, of course. I was only planning on setting her _hair_ on fire, and only if I think I can get away with it."  
"Have you guys always been like this? Because… I'm honestly kind of amazed you're not dead or under the care of a mind healer…"

Hermione stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I really haven't. But you know what, Nev? When I saw all the neat things in Diagon Alley, something clicked in my head. It really hit me that this was a whole new world, a place where no one had decided they could be mean to me. At that very moment, I decided I _would_ be happy here, even if that meant showing people I could be a lot meaner than them," Hermione answered with a dark look on her face. "Fire seems like a pretty good way to demonstrate that."

"I just… don't care, I guess? I mean, the twins were nice, then King was nice, then you guys were nice and I got Angel. I don't really need _everyone_ to like me, I don't think any of you'll stop liking me because I melted a few cauldrons…" Harry said with a shrug. "Which is good, because it's fun and I'm probably gonna keep doing it."

"Exactly! I know you wouldn't stop liking me, even if I _did_ accidentally set you on fire," Hermione cheerfully agreed.

"Please don't set us on fire…" the boys whimpered together.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. If anything, _we_ should be worried about _Harry_. I can't even cast the Immolation Spell yet, but he…" Hermione trailed off, gesturing towards the glowing puddle.

"Yeah, Harry, that's kind of scary. You shouldn't even be able to do that. Like, you really, _really_ shouldn't be able to do that. You've been using your wand for what, three days? You barely know how to hold it."

Harry gave the a confused frown and rubbed his head. "I dunno. It was like something went 'pop' in my brain when the twins showed me. It was like, 'Hey, this sets things on fire! We can do this!' and all of a sudden it was really easy."

"You learned the spell so easily because your brain finds the idea of setting things on fire particularly agreeable?" Hermione asked, disbelief clear on her face. "Harry… that _is_ kind of scary. I mean, I like the Sea of Molten Torment too, but..."

"Hermione 'Let's Steal All the Cauldrons and Have Harry Set Them on Fire' Granger think's I'm scary. Okay, sure… Try to avoid the glass when you throw those cauldrons."

"Do you guys hate cauldrons, or something?" Neville demanded. "Like, did a cauldron kill your dogs?"

Hermione shook her head in disappointment. "Honestly, Neville. How would a cauldron kill a dog?"

"Maybe the dog drowned in melted cauldron?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah, about that. Are we gonna do something about this, or are we seriously going to just leave it here!?" Neville demanded, pointing at Cauldron Sea.

"Uh, it _would_ probably be less dangerous if it wasn't quite so-"

"-bone-liquefying hot?" Hermione finished.

"I thought bones just burned. They actually do that? Liquefy?"

"Until about twenty-two minutes ago I would have said 'no' with an unshakable degree of certainty."

"Please focus," Neville groaned. "We need to cool that down before Ron trips into it or something."

"I like how he just assumes Ron's going to trip into it."

"It does seem like a safe assumption, though."

"Just cool it down, okay?" Neville pleaded.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

"Uh, why are you asking us?"

"Yeah. _You're_ the wizard-wizard."

There was a brief silence as the three of them stared at each other.

"So~," Harry drawled. "No one actually knows how to cool 45kg of melted cauldron down, huh?"

"Closer to 50kg, really. And no, no we don't," the witch admitted, burying her face in her hands. "This is- _Headwig_!"

The small owl, previously dozing in her hair, had been dislodged and catapulted forward by the sudden motion. The three friends watched helplessly as the white ball of fluff sailed toward the pool of molten death. The poor bird hit with a very audible plopping noise, vanishing into the metal.

"Headwig…" Hermione whimpered.

A small, white head popped out of the liquid metal and looked at her curiously. Headwig shook a bit of molten pewter off her head and began waddling around in the mess like it was little more than water.

"Uh…" Harry said dumbly, his mouth hanging open. "Hermione? Now I'm _sure_ there's something wrong with your owl."

Headwig began rolling around in the pewter, using her wings to splash it up over herself. The bird began preening, straightening out her feathers heedless of the fact that her beak was dislodging beads of white-hot metal.

"Something really, _really_ wrong," Neville agreed.

"Aww, that's adorable!" Hermione declared.

The owl, hearing her voice, suddenly looked up. She regarded Hermione for a moment, then produced a happy trill.

The witch's eyes widened as her owl popped out of the metal and flew towards her. "Headwig! No!' Hermione cried as she turned to flee the bird. Headwig, not quite understanding, pursued her around the common room. Fine beads of cauldron spewed from her wings as she went, landing on the furniture scattered around the edges of the room. It took little more than a second for thin strands of smoke to start appearing.

"Okay, so… There's a huge puddle of metal in the common room that we don't know how to cool down. Hermione's bird is on fire, doesn't seem to care, and is actively trying to set _her_ on fire. In about thirty seconds, the common room is going to be more on fire than the Potions room was, and that was a lot of fire. We've robbed all of our roommates, created a lake of doom that Ron's probably going to die in and I know a spell I'll probably use to do more things like this in the future," Harry summarized. "Did I miss anything?"

"Well, Fred and George are probably gonna be pretty upset we burned down another room and didn't let them help," Neville added.

"So, basically, you're saying there's no salvaging the situation," Hermione summarized the summary, walking up to them. "Good."

Harry and Neville stared at one, they turned their gazes upward towards Headwig.  
"What? She got all the metal off."

The owl now looked like it was wearing heavy armor. Pewter had hardened on her chest, forming a breastplate that logically had no right to sport a feathery pattern. More metal had hardened across the bird's wings, turning them into vicious blades. The material had dripped over her head, outfitting her with a crested helmet that looked very much like the sort of thing a commander would wear. The intense magical flames had altered the pewter, giving it a blackened color with extremely fine cracks in it. The dark metal had a glassy look, shining in the light of the molten pool.

The tiny bird looked like something you'd find sitting on a throne made of skulls.

"What?" Hermione asked self-consciously. "Why are you looking at me?"

"We're not," they replied together.

She shook her head in confusion. "You two can be so weird sometimes… Anyway, it's kind of good everything's on fire," she announced, gesturing towards the small flames that were already appearing. "Now we don't have to waste our time trying to fix it, and now we can do something more productive."

'What… kind of productive?" Neville inquired suspiciously.

"Wake up Angel and Orchid. I'll explain on the way."

* * *

"I told you this was a bad idea!" Neville screamed, hoofing it down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him. Given the situation, that was pretty damn fast.

"You did!" Hermione screamed back. "You were right!"  
"That was _awesome_!" Harry crowed.

Behind them, a tidal wave of molten rock gushed out of an unused classroom. The glowing rock poured down the hall, hot (in a very literal sense) on the heels of a madly-giggling Angel.

"It's like tag!" she cheered. "Like tag with a dragon!"

"Did the room really have to be _full_ , Hermione!?" Neville demanded.

"Hey, they just kept bringing more rocks!" the witch protested. "What was I supposed to do, say no to them?"  
"Yes!" Neville screamed.

"Uh, guys… I don't think this was the right way to go," Harry announced, pointing ahead of them. "It's a dead end or stairs, and I'm pretty sure the wave of bone-melting goes down stairs a lot faster than we do!"

Neville stared at the flight of stairs they were approaching. "Oh, shi-"  
Thin branches exploded out of his clothing launching him into the air. Suddenly he couldn't even tell which way was up. Whirling, snapping plant matter cracked across the floor and walls, sending him tumbling down the hall far faster than he was comfortable with. Just when he was certain he'd rainbow, the ride came to an abrupt end. He was spun neatly to his feet, the branches surrounding him retracting. Orchid formed behind him, arms wrapped protectively around his neck.

"O~h, that was _fun_!" Angel announced as she set Harry on his feet. "We should do that again!"

"Well, we should probably plan a little better in the future. Set up some kind of barrier to give ourselves somewhere to run," Hermione pointed out. Her feet were dangling a foot off the ground. Headwig had the back of her robes in hand (talon?), and was supporting the witch's full weight with little difficulty. Something about the altered aerodynamics of her wings produced a deep thrumming sound, making her sound like a tiny Blackhawk.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit," Harry declared. "I don't care if she's a magic owl, there's no vascoing way!"

"You're just jealous that you don't have pretty magic owl," Hermione accused stiffly.

"Uh, Hermione? I have a cat that can be a person that cuts metal with her fingernails," Harry pointed out. "And she's pretty. In _both_ forms."

"Aw, you're so sweet, My Boy!" Angel cried. She grabbed him in a hug from behind and buried her face in the side of his neck.

"Gah! Don't do that! It t-" was as far as he got before breaking down into giggles and laughter.

"Right. We've flooded the north stairwell with molten stone," Hermione declared. O(wl)verlord Headwig set her lightly on her feet and took up residence on a shoulder. "Mission accomplished. Good work, men."

The Owlverlord hooted approvingly.

" _That_ was our mission?" Neville inquired skeptically. "Because I was pretty sure you and Harry just wanted to melt a bunch of rocks."

"In honor of humanity's long relationship with revisionist history, it was our mission as of now. And we completed it. It was a job well done."

"Right. Whatever. Can we go get five minutes of sleep now? I think I'm starting to see things that aren't there," Neville complained.

Hermione looked up at Orchid, then back down at Neville. "And that's a new thing?"

"It is when I'm not-"

Neville paused as as strange noise filled the Great Hall. Even Angel stopped tormenting her master as it became more apparent. It was a deep, continuous crashing noise, as if a herd of elephants was running through the school. It went on and on, getting louder and louder.

"So, anyone think this is a good thing?" Harry asked.

"..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

An enormous geyser of water erupted out into the Great Hall, quickly turning it into a shallow pool. The molten stone spat and hissed behind them. A moment later, Ri and Ru came into view. Each was riding a chunk of wood through the raging white watters with a wide grin. Following just behind them was Snow, a look that was half insanely thrilled and half pure terror etched on her face. The trio rode the wave as it slammed into the Great Stairs' landing.

Her expression quickly turned to pure horror the impact ejected her from her vehicle. She managed one surprised cry before plunging into the torrent. A series of sharp crackles filled the hall as heat was forcibly yanked from the water. Lady just barely managed to eject herself in time, sloshing to a stop atop the staff table. Quickly reforming, she caught the foxes - boards and all - before they hit the floor.

Hermione surveyed the carnage.

Aside from the clear area they stood in - the fortunate result of the hot stone just behind them - the entire hall was buried under three inches of frozen water. The staff table had been completely engulfed in something that strongly resembled a sea urchin made of ice. A massive boulder of the stuff completely surrounded the dais. It was tall enough to reach the Grand Staircase's landing and wide enough to completely fill the space between the staircases curving around the table. Crazed spikes frozen spikes jutted out at random angles, their edges and sides shining ominously in the low light.

The trio carefully crossed the frozen hall, sliding to a stop near the staff table. Well, more accurately, they slid to a very abrupt stop against the stairs leading to the staff table. The foxes launched forward and boarded Harry as soon as he was in range. Lady remained on the table, fearfully staring down at the ice.

Snow looked at them helplessly from within the unintentional ice sculpture, mouthing the words, "I'm stuck."

"Harry, please extract the naked girl," Hermione sighed.

"Uh… how exactly am I supposed to do that?" he asked with a frown.

"Fire, obviously," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes.

"But won't that hurt her?"

"She's a yuki-onna, Harry. Just nail her as hard as you can. Don't worry about hurting her. Trust me, she'll love it."

 _Hard?_

Hermione released a rainbow onto the improvised ice sculpture as her brain tried to process the comment. It immediately exploded outward, forming a frozen technicolor tree. Harry and Neville turned beet-red, while Angel just scolded, "Dirty Flower…"

"If you're sure…" Harry agreed hesitantly. He carefully crossed the ice until he was directly in front of Snow. The tip of his wand traced two swirling symbols. " _Ast Ut Nihil_."

A faint, red glow appeared on the tip of his wand. The wizard stood and fixed it with an intense look of concentration. The light slowly became brighter and more more opaque.

"How hot does it need to be?" he asked nervously.

"She's a snow woman, Harry," Hermione sighed. "She eats heat like Headwig eats bacon. Torch her."

"Okay… If you're sure…" he agreed uncertainly. Staring at Snow, he lamented, "Uh… If I burn you off the face of the Earth, I'm really sorry…"

The point of light on his wand slowly faded from red to orange over the course of several seconds. The air around it began rippling and shifting. The light continued to change, shifting from orange to yellow. The change became slower and slower as it went. In the end, over a minute and a half later, it settled on a lovely lemon shade.

Snow's eyes slowly widened as she stared at the spark. Harry glanced to the side just in time to miss her eagerly licking her lips.

"Uh, Hermione? I don't think I can hold it in any more."

"Then let her have it Harry," Hermione insisted. "Unload it right in her face."

Harry closed his eyes, turned his head away and released the spell. There was a massive explosion of something like freezing-cold steam. Fine particles of ice blasted the trio, caking them with a thin, frozen crust.

An extremely loud cry came from within the frozen lump. Something about it strongly suggested that it had nothing to do with pain. A ripple passed through the ice with a sharp crack, painting the previously transparent structure a blinding shade of white.

A small cavern had been carved out of the ice, leaving a panting Snow laying on the floor.

"Uh… I didn't hurt her, did I?"

Angel awkwardly slid up behind him and gave him a reassuring rub on the head. "No, My Boy. She's just… a little tired. And you don't say a word, Dirty Flower."

Hermione sighed and glared at the foxes. "So, who's brilliant idea was it to take the yuki-onna surfing? Do you have any idea what she could have done to Lady?"

The familiars looked at each other, then looked up at Angel.

"They say that she made them do it. She threatened to hug them if they didn't," Angel helpfully translated. "They didn't want to be fox popsicles. Fopsicles? Foxicles? It doesn't translate very well..."

"Right. I have a very hard time believing you're not responsible. I'll have you know we just buried the north entrance in melted rock, so we're not really in a position to judge you," Hermione pointed out, gesturing to the still-glowing stone.

The fox twins stared at the mess with obviously impressed looks on their faces. Again, they turned to look at Angel.

"They said they were bored, their wizards were asleep and they thought flooding all the staircases and freezing the water would make a bitchin' slide."

"Wait, 'All the stairs,' you said? What do you mean _all_ the stairs?" Hermione demanded.

"They got Lady to drag all the water she could inhabit to the top of the Astronomy Tower," Angel informed her. "The entire Grand Stair should be one big sheet of ice."

"They're right. That would make a bitchin' slide…" Neville agreed enthusiastically.

"...exactly how were you planning to get back up there?" Hermione asked with a sigh. "It's pretty hard to climb a sheet of ice, isn't it?"

The twins exchanged a horrified look.  
"They hadn't thought of that."

"Yes, I figured," Hermione groaned. "You should at least- Harry?"

The wizard had wandered over to the small cavern in the ice and was now standing over her, looking down at her curiously. "Um… hi. This probably isn't the best time to ask, but could you do me a little favor?" he asked hopefully.

The familiar turned to gaze up at him with a strange look in her eye. "Anything…" she gasped softly.

"Uh… right."

* * *

 _Ast ut nihil_ \- "Burn to nothing"

Maybe. Actually, probably not. But it might be close...ish. Don't blame me if it's not, blame the completely random and probably unreliable translation site I'm using. For all I know it means, "You're mother's a donkey." It's not any worse than canon's pseudo-latin crap, either way.

You'll probably see more of these notes in the future. I'd say I'll try to keep the new spells to a minimum but, honestly, that's probably a lie. I basically write whatever pops into my head, so any promises I make here are meaningless. There's even a slight possibility that there may be a chapter that's nothing _but_ new spells. LIterally, just 8000 words of new spells.

Why're some people so hung up on that, anyway? I've hit the storyline with a sledgehammer, altered the personalities of more characters than I haven't, added a shit-ton of OCs and completely changed Hogwarts itself.. There is literally no point in worrying about adding new spells a this juncture.

Oh, right. See below for the details on that last one. Or don't. You could always go have a bowl of ice cream instead. Actually, I recommend the ice cream. It probably tastes better, unless you splatter a lot of food on your monitor. But if that's the case, licking it might land you in the ER.

* * *

A/N:

This was originally really fucking long. I've decided to summarize it in the sake of expediency.

Characters unusually capable because tough childhood and lots of study time. Supportive relationships early on help. First-years have each other and surrogate big brothers. Twins have someone looking up to them, someone that likes them other than King. Also, as seen previously, familiars affect their masters. Some more than others.

I just summarized - I shit you not - a full page of author's notes. You're welcome.

Also thought I'd note that this Hogwarts is very different in structure than cannon. I never liked that setup. For a castle built during a time of violent turmoil in both worlds, it was horrifically inefficient and indefensible. Considering it houses the population's children and collected knowledge, that's inexcusable.

You can cry "magic" if you want, and that's fine. But if both sides have magic, he with the thicker walls wins.

So, Hogwarts is a more traditional medieval fort. Four long, connected buildings surround an inner ward, creating a hollow square. A large break in the east building the the primary entrance to the grounds, and the Great Hall is opposite it.

The staff table is at the back of the hall, with twin staircases curving around it to a landing. It's from this landing the Astronomy Tower and Grand Staircase are accessed.

I do this because I like it better this way and it helps certain bits of the story work better. There's also the fact that the many maps I've seen don't look like they'd fit the (admittedly inconsistent) numbers Rowling has said were there, let alone the theoretically larger numbers in the past. My highschool was bigger than some of them, for the love of god. Considering that the wizarding population - for reasons that do exist and will be addressed later - is much larger in this world, that doesn't fly.

Mainly because I like it better, though. Grand, impressive castles are cool, but hulking death-forts are cooler. I'd say I'm sorry if this upsets you, but I'd be lying. If a ameture writer changing a fictional castle is all it takes to make you sad, someone would have done it sooner rather than later.

It may as well be me.

Actually, I'd prefer it was me. Every tear I make someone shed adds a day to my life. I'm pretty set since I dumped a quarter-ton of fresh, shredded onions on that orphanage, but another day here and there never hurts.

Next chapter we see how a leather fetish can help with everyday life, why verifying the facts isn't always good and the importance of keeping your underwear where it belongs.


	15. Sticky Fingers and Screaming Witches

Something Familiar

Chapter 15: "Sticky Fingers and Screaming Witches"

AKA: "Justicedingers: Now Accepting Donations"

* * *

"Minerva. I'm afraid I may be getting old. Please explain what I'm seeing…" the headmaster requested.

McGonagall sighed as she looked at the Great Hall. She really couldn't blame him for his state of mild shock. The grand room was a total wreck. In all her years in Hogwarts, as both student and teacher, she'd never seen someone accomplish anything quite like this.

"You know of the unused third-floor classroom across from the nearest northern stairs?" she asked.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Of course. I believe it once housed a dueling class. I don't think it's been used for centuries."

"Well, apparently someone found a use for it. It seems they packed it full of stones-"

" _Full_?" Albus exclaimed. "Surely you're joking, Minerva. That's quite a large classroom…"

"I'm just as capable of judging the volume of a material as you are Albus. I wouldn't be much of a transfiguration specialist if I couldn't do that," McGonagall sniffed stiffly. "Yes, it is a rather large classroom, but we are clearly dealing with a rather large amount of stone. If you think I'm mistaken, walk the halls and count for yourself."

"That won't be necessary. I did not intend to doubt your capabilities. I'm simply a bit… taken aback."

"I see. I suppose that is understandable," the witch conceded. "Once the classroom was full, the culprit proceeded to melt the entire lot at once. Some of the material flooded the corridors on the second and third floor. The majority of it poured straight down the stairwell and pooled in the northern corridor and Great Hall."

Albus muttered. "I suppose it is too much to hope that you're about to say the damage isn't as bad as it appears."

"The corridors on the top two floors are passable, if inconvenient. The first-floor passage is also usable, provided you don't mind crawling. The stairwell is a total loss. Technically there's enough room to traverse it, but the stairs have effectively been converted into a very smooth slope," she reported.

"How long will it take to clean up?"

"I'm not sure," McGonagall admitted. "I can't quite identify the spell that was used, so I don't dare to try transfiguring it until the residual magic fades."

The headmaster looked at her in surprise. "I admit that I'm a bit confused. If that much magic remains, it should be simple to identify most spells. Is it truly that exotic?"

"No, Albus. It's quite common, actually. It's just that it makes no sense."

"How so?"

McGonagall sighed, "It was the Incineration Spell, Headmaster." The look she received in return was exactly the sort of incredulous reaction she was expecting. "I know what you're going to say, but I'm quite certain. The signature is that of the Incineration Spell."

"The Incineration Spell burns _trash_ Minerva," he protested. "It's a little burst of heat that sets parchment and such on fire. It would be difficult to melt _a_ rock with it, let alone a classroom full."

"You see? I _did_ know what you were about to say. That is exactly what I meant when I said I'm not completely certain what did this. It is most definitely the Incineration Spell, but it's… wrong. It's like someone got the wires crossed."

The idiom earned her a confused look.

"Honestly, Albus, it's a common idiom. You need to begin spending more time among muggles. How in the world are you supposed to provide for our muggleborn students if you don't know the first thing about their culture?"

"I find myself occupied by other things, Minerva. Running a school, for example."

"To say something's wires are crossed is to say that it is functioning improperly or in a way not intended," she explained. "I believe the stones were melted via what was essentially a miscast spell. Not knowing how or why it had this effect…"

"Introducing more magic carelessly could be… unfortunate," Albus finished. "I suppose we will have to wait, then. Unless we can ask the perpetrator themselves?"

"I believe it was a member of my own house. A similar incident took place in our common room. And, before you ask, it wasn't the Weasleys. If they tried something like this, they'd likely blow up their wands and their arms with it. Not that that would stop them," she declared. "Short of testing every wand to match the signature, I can't think of a way to locate the caster. Even that might not work, considering how muddled the spell was. We don't exactly have something to compare it against."

"I see. And that?" Albus asked, gesturing towards what had once been his seat.

"An excessively large amount of water was taken to the top of the tower, released and subsequently flash-frozen. Due to the lack of a spell signature, it's clear the guilty party wasn't a student. I have strong suspicions as to who was involved, for obvious reasons," McGonagall reported. "Unfortunately, a familiar's activities are much harder to trace than a wizard's. Other than the obvious circumstantial connection, there isn't any real evidence."

"I see. This, at least, will be cleared up quickly?"

"..."

"Minerva?"

"Albus? What is that?" she asked, pointing to the spiked, white structure.

Dumbledore gave her yet another confused look. "It's ice, of course? Are you feeling alright, Minerva?"

"Have you ever seen ice quite that color?"

"I don't-"

" _Potens Bombarda,_ " McGonagall incanted, thrusting her wand forward and giving the tip a flick.

Dumbledore reflexively flinched away as a massive explosion erupted at the end of the hall. The sound was absolutely deafening in the enclosed area. Flecks of ice stung his eyes as the displaced air rushed by his face.

" _Minerva_! What have I told you about using that spell indoors!?" he demanded. "This sort of thing is _exactly_ why I told you not to get involved with those-"

"That started to get tiresome within a month of my returning, Albus. It hasn't aged well in the past thirty years. Now, if you would give a bit less thought to _what_ and more to _why_ …" she ordered, gesturing towards the clearing smoke.

There was a broad, shallow crater in the ice structure and a few of the spikes were broken off. Other than that, there was no sign it had been hit with a devastating explosion.

"That ice is highly resistant to damage. That's the seventh assault spell I've tried on it. The other six didn't accomplish much more. I don't have anything else that might shatter it, unless you'd like me to try a siege spell...?"

"No!" Albus snapped. "Just melt it, for Merlin's sake!"

"Do you really think I didn't try that, Albus? Whatever that is, it was clearly created by a tremendous release of energy. Wide-area spells are completely useless. It simply ignores lesser flames, as if they hadn't touched it at all. Powerful, focused flames work, but have very limited coverage. Besides us, there's only three other professors capable of producing the heat needed to melt it," she informed him. "That's a _lot_ of ice for five people to melt. There's really not much point in trying, considering the problem will likely clear itself up faster than we could anyway."

"So, you are essentially saying that the Great Hall has been choked with ice and stone, neither of which we can actually do anything about?"

"That does seem to be a fair summary, yes."

"Wonderful. I suppose there's some comfort in knowing the day cannot get any wo-"

" _Headmaster!_ " Professor Flitwick screamed from the other end of the hall.

McGonagall sighed, "Honestly, Albus. You really should know better…"

* * *

A screaming fifth-year wizard - Ravenclaw - shot across the Great Hall, passing barely a foot over their heads.

"Have either of you notice anything odd since you came here?" Hermione inquired.

Both of her dining companions stared at her in disbelief.

"You're kidding, right? Or is this some kind of trick question…" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I assure you, I'm quite serious."

"Let's pretend Neville didn't almost get his head taken off by a ballistic wizard for a second," Harry began.

"Four," Neville announced.

"There was a wombat acting as a conductor for what I'm pretty sure was a cat-and-dog choir in our common room, using a puddle of melted cauldrons as a stage and being cheered on by a audience of birds, reptiles and a seal, which is kind impressive considering there isn't actually a way to get a seal into the room," Harry continued, ignoring Neville. "I'm pretty sure that qualifies as odd."

Neville tapped his finger in a rhythmic beat. "I thought they were pretty good. That song's probably gonna be stuck in my head all day. Woof, woof, meow, woof, hiss, woof, howl!"

"They were pretty good," Hermione agreed. "I mean, the Golden Retriever was a bit off key and the orange tabby wasn't quite in sync, but I'm sure they'll iron it out."

"So… there's your answer. Yes, we have noticed something odd. Could you pass the mustard?"

Hermione frowned at Harry and slid the requested jar across the table. "That's not what I mean. I mean… like… feelings. Like looking at something and feeling like that's not quite how you saw it before," she muttered, staring down at the table in thought. "Like thinking something might not be as important as you thought, or thinking about something you've never thought of before..."

"Like setting things on fire?" Neville sighed as he watched Harry.

"Well, sort of. I guess. I think that was just because I'd never really noticed how pretty fire was before, though. Maybe because it wasn't magic fire?" Hermione mused.

"Could be. Either way, it might be because of the Bond," Neville suggested. "Five."

"What do you mean? I just connects us to our familiar, right?"

Neville shook his head. "Not exactly. It works by taking little bits of you and swapping them for little bits of your familiar. You're connected because you're always together, at least a little."

"...you're saying that there's some of Crookshanks in me?"

"Er… pretty much. Yeah," Neville admitted.

"That wasn't anywhere in the materials I was given!" Hermione seethed. "Why weren't we told that? The fact that you're giving away a part of your soul seems like a fairly important detail!"

Neville flinched away from the witch slightly. "They probably didn't think it's important," he replied. "It's not something most people even notice. Having a little toad in you doesn't do much of anything."

"But if your familiar isn't a simple animal…?"

The wizard winced. "Uh, supposedly the stronger and smarter a familiar is, the more it does to you."

"Wonderful…"

A young witch flew past overhead, arms outstretched in a "flying superhero" pose.

Neville watched with interest as a Hufflepuff slid by them and slammed into the wall. There was a heavy thud as he bounced off of it, spinning to a stop near Neville's chair as the first-year gazed down on him.

 _Beneath us._

"Six," he giggled.

The older boy's head snapped around, and angry look on his face. Whatever he'd been about to say never left his lips. Instead, he paled slightly as he caught sight of Neville and frantically scrambled away.

"Okay… that was pretty weird," Neville decided. "I don't think you need to worry too much, Hermione. I've got Orchid, and I don't feel different at all."

"No changing it now, I guess. I'm just really glad I didn't sleep through my registration," Hermione muttered. She took a bite of her roast beef sandwich and then frowned, giving it a nasty glare. "Considering we slept until lunch, it's a good thing everything got pushed back. Thank heaven for that mysterious disaster that messed up the Great Hall so mysteriously."

"I kind of like it this way. The ice is really pretty," Harry said. There was a faint smile on his face as he turned to watch a panicking Hufflepuff slide by. The boy scrambled at the ice, doing his best to dig his nails into it and gain some sort of handhold. His attempts bore no fruit, leaving him to slam into the wall with a heavy thump.

"Seven." Neville announced with another giggle.

"Maybe they should teach a class on walking?" Harry suggested. "It seems like a lot of people need that today."

"Honestly, I understand that there's ice and everything, but how hard is it? There's chairs you can hold onto. All you have to do is slide towards your table and grab a leg when you go by," Hermione sighed. "They're even embedded in the ice enough that they don't move."

Neville nodded. "Yeah, the sliding was kind of fun."

His statement was met by a snort from Harry and a giggle from Hermione.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "You didn't look like you were having much fun the eighth time you did it."

A Hufflepuff passed over their head, laughing hysterically.

"Hey, I've never done something like that before," Neville muttered. "It's fun. Eight."

"What do you mean ei-" A witch slammed into the wall. "-oh, nevermind."

"Yeah, it was pretty fun," Harry agreed.

"Oh. Well, do you know what isn't fun, Harry?" Hermione asked sweetly. Slamming her sandwich down on her plate in disgust, she continued, "Trying to eat a dry roast beef sandwich. That's what isn't fun."

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Not even the giggling witch flying overhead was enough to break it.

"Uh… so no one's curious about that?" Neville asked. "Because I haven't seen a lot of witches fly without brooms…"

"I think we all know what's happening here, Neville. I'm more interested in finding out why we don't have any mustard. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you Harry?" Hermione demanded, pointing at the bubbling pile of molten glass on the table between them.

"I was checking to see if it'd burn," Harry admitted.

Neville stared at him. "Harry, why _wouldn't_ mustard burn?"

"Because it's _wizard_ mustard, Neville."

Hermione paused and thought for a moment before admitting, "You know, he has a point."

"Guys. Seriously. Just because wizards made something, doesn't mean it's fireproof," Neville protested.

"Trust but verify, Neville. Trust but verify."

"Nine."

"Harry, that's not at all the context in which that quote is meant to be used. Still, it's quite a reasonable stance," Hermione decided with a nod. "I'd still appreciate it if you asked me if I was done with something before you verify it, Harry."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's just… it was right there, and we hadn't tested any condiments yet."

"Right. I can _almost_ see that, I guess. Almost. But why did you feel like you needed to verify the mayonnaise, too?" Neville demanded, gesturing towards the second pile of melted glass.

A witch passed over, sans robe. The girl was blushing bright red and desperately trying to hold her skirt down. A moment later, her robe landed in the seat next to Hermione.

"Well, it is a different condiment. There was no way to be sure it wouldn't burn," Hermione mused.

"Yeah, and mayonnaise scares me," he announced, getting weird looks from both his friends. "What? Really, it's made from eggs, guys! _Eggs_!"

Hermione and Neville went pale.

"There's… really no way to know if George's egg 'allergy' is limited to scrambled eggs…" Hermione whispered with a shudder.

"Maybe it's okay… I mean, he can eat pancakes without threatening to suck our eyeballs out of our heads. There's eggs in pancakes, right?" Neville said hopefully.

"Hm… perhaps there's some sort of minimum threshold he has to reach before his affliction activates?"

"Ten. Maybe. I mean, there's eggs in tons of stuff. He'd be in scary mode all the time if that's all it took."

"That still means mayonnaise is bad, though. There's a lot of egg in there," Harry pointed out.

Neville sighed, "Either way, what can we do? It's not like we can verify every bit of mayonnaise in the school." He suddenly shuddered. Looking up, he discovered he was the subject of two very intense stares. "Guys? That wasn't a challenge."

Hermione stared at him for a moment longer before sighing and looking away. "He's right, Harry. We'll have to settle for verifying any mayonnaise he tries to touch. How accurate do you think you are? You may need to take it out of his hand."

"Well… I'm pretty sure I could miss his fingers. Most of them, anyway."

"Can wizards regrow fingers, Neville?" Hermione inquired.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure we can't," he answered slowly. "You guys… do know we could just take it from him, right?"

His question was immediately met with shocked looks.

"I didn't even think of that. Good work, Neville!" Harry said cheerfully.

"Yeah, good job Neville! That's probably better than burning off a finger or two," Hermione agreed without looking up.

A laughing boy sailed by overhead.

"Five," Harry corrected, wincing as another wizard hit the wall. "Maybe seven if his hands are lined up right."

"No, eleven," Hermione corrected. "Oh, wait. You meant fingers…"

"And you meant to say, 'Wrong,' Harry. When you're talking about burning a friend's fingers off, they line up _wrong_ ," Neville corrected the correction.

"Oh, give him a break. It's an easy mistake to make. Pore cleanser? Who on Earth carries pore cleanser?" Hermione demanded. "And is it really important enough to keep in your robes?" she asked in disgust, holding up the flying witch's lost garments.

Neville examined the robes. "Hermione? What are you doing?"

"Seeing if there's anything worth repossessing in here. She was kind enough to leave it for us, it seems like it would be rude to not loot it. Ooh, chocolate! With toffee bits, even! My parents never let me eat this sort of thing."

There was a thoughtful look on Neville's face as he pondered this. Finally, he asked, "Was she carrying any gum? I really want gum for some reason…"

"Save any Chocolate Frogs you find. It'll make the girls really happy," Harry suggested.

Hermione frowned at him and pulled a Chocolate Frog out of the robes. "Are you psychic or something?" she demanded.

"Well, sometimes I _do_ feel like I have mysterious powers," he admitted as he accepted the package.

"Yeah. Maybe that's because you have mysterious powers," Hermione groaned. "Hey, her wand's in here. You think we should give it back before we verify the robes?"

"We're verifying her robes? Seriously? Right here in the Great Hall?" Neville demanded. "I can understand people missing the melty glass, but robes would turn into a lot more fire. At the very least, I'm pretty sure the people sliding by'll notice. Twelve."

"Fred said you're not very good at the Somebody Else's Problem Charm yet. Can it really make everyone miss a robe fire?" Harry inquired.

"You've got a point. There's a big difference between being hidden and being ignored," Hermione admitted. She quickly stuffed the robes under the table and tossed the wand to Harry. "I'll have to practice that a lot. Here. You've got a better arm than me. Ravenclaw."

Nodding in understanding, Harry hopped up onto the table and hurled the wand into the air. A moment later there was a scream of pain and a shout of, "Something got Cho in the eye again!"

"Good work, Harry. I-" Hermione suddenly paused. She quickly glanced down at the robes she'd shoved under the table. "Oh. Oops. She was a Slytherin."

Harry shrugged. "Ravenclaw's halfway there, right? Someone else can throw it the rest of the way."

"That is a good point. I think…" Hermione paused. She looked straight at Harry, her eyes unfocused. Her lips moved silently in a steady beat.

"Hermione? You okay?"

"One sec," the witch replied.

A howling Hufflepuff witch passed over them. As she went by, Hermione deftly reached up and stripped her of her robe. The girl vanished with a surprised shout.

"Did- did you seriously just do that!?" Harry demanded, staring at the pilfered robe. "Is that something a person can actually do?"

"Apparently. It was easier than I thought it'd be, too," she declared. Holding up the garment, she quickly began searching the pockets.

Neville shook his head. "I'm pretty sure there's a difference between looting a lost cloak and actively stealing one. This is the sort of thing that gets you in trouble, you know…"

"You know the best part of people not paying attention to you, Neville? The fact that people don't pay attention to you," Hermione informed him. "Fires are one thing. There's a lot of self-interest there and people tend to pay attention to that sort of thing. But, for the most part, people _want_ to ignore us. With the charm to give them a little extra push..."

"Fred said it'd work as long as we don't draw too much attention. How many people are really paying attention to the guys going over us? How many of them care enough to notice if they lose their robes?" Harry frowned as he considered the answer to his own questions.

"Someone would probably have to both notice that our involunteer is someone they like _and_ that we stole something from them for them to care enough to break the charm. That doesn't seem very likely, so we're probably good until we have to leave," Hermione reassured Neville. "It's somewhat disappointing that the charm is bound to a limited geographic area. It would be quite useful if we could carry it with us."

"Not caring enough to notice… It's kind of sad when you put it like that," Neville sighed. " . Huh, I feel a lot better now…"

"It's amazing what watching someone slam face-first into a brick wall at bone-crushing speeds can do for you. And here I thought I wasn't into this sort of base humor," Hermione admitted.

"I almost feel like I should do something to help…"

"Don't feel too bad for them, Harry. At least _their_ house is catching them if they're within arm's reach. It's depriving us of some entertainment, but it's a nice thing to do. _Our_ house is completely ignoring us and acting like this end of the table doesn't exist. How many of them do you think would extend a hand to us?"

"Do you think they do that all the time?" Harry quite deliberately ignored her question. "Like, is this area totally off limits, or is it just because we're here? The way everyone avoids it kinda makes me feel like I'm somewhere I shouldn't be..."

Hermione pointed out, "I'm thinking it's an 'us' thing, Harry. Even if they avoid this side all the time, it's probably because they're worried one of us will come sit with them. We'd likely find ourselves alone even if we sat on that side. It's pretty obvious people have noticed us hanging out with the twins and King, so we're probably just as bad in their books." She looked around curiously. "You know, being blacklisted by an entire school isn't as bad as I thought It'd be. It's better than the last one, anyway."

"Maybe it's just because their opinions are worthless," Neville growled as he stared down the table towards the rest of their house. _What right do to you have to judge them?_

"Uh… are you okay, Neville?" Harry asked cautiously.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I think it kind of annoys me when people act like that to you guys," he answered sheepishly.

Hermione favored him with a brilliant smile. "Well, don't get too worked up. They'll get… Honestly, nothing but a wand?" Hermione complained. She tossed the offending stick onto the table. "Harry, please wand someone else in the eye for me."

"Okay, but I can't promise the eye. It's a small target," Harry declared.

Shaking her head, Hermione complained, "Honestly, what about keeping your wand in your robe pocket seems like a good idea? What if someone steals your robes?"

"I… don't really think that's a common problem, Hermione," Neville protested. "People don't normally-"

Hermione reached up and snatched a passing wizard's robes.

"You know what? Next set of robes I get'll be strapped to my body," Neville decided. "Big, leather straps with big buckles. Lots of them."

"Neville… you might want to rethink that. You don't want to give people the wrong idea…" Hermione suggested. "Unless you're into that sort of thing."

From further down the hall, there was a scream of, "Oh god! My other eye!"

Hermione and Neville turned their gazes towards Harry.

"You hit the same girl in the other eye?" Hermione asked incredulously. "How in the world did you manage that?"

"I dunno. I'm good at hitting people in the eyes with wands?"

"That's an oddly specific talent, Harry."

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one stealing clothing off of ballistic wizards, am I?"

"It's actually quite easy once you get the hang of it. You should try."

"Nah, I'll pass. There's no point in taking the robes. What were we talking about, again? I was too busy ramming a wand into that girl's face to listen."

"Neville's leather fetish," Hermione answered.

Harry turned to look at his friend curiously. "You have a leather fetish, Neville?"

"I honestly don't even know what a fetish is, Harry," Neville admitted. "Fourteen."

"It's something people do in magazines."

Hermione nodded. "In videos, too. My father had several on his computer. It seems he assumed naming the folder 'important documents' would be enough to fool my mother. I suppose it did, since I'm certain I would have heard the argument if it didn't."

"Did you watch some? Weren't they weird?"

"Yes, I watched seven. He had them organized by fetish, so I watched one of each. I can understand the little people, but I wasn't aware someone could find having a person splash water in the boat on them enjoyable…"

Neville turned bright red.

"Hey, that reminds me!" Harry suddenly declared. "Neville, the other morning-"

"So, what'd we get, anyway?" Neville broke in."Were the other ones carrying anything good?"

"Ooh, yeah. Was there anymore frogs?" Harry asked excitedly.

"No, but I found some gum. I hope you like cinnamon, Neville," Hermione announced, handing over a small package. She took out a second package and began, "I also found something called a Cauldron-"

" _PULL!_ " Harry screamed, leaping up onto his chair.

Neville lunged across the table and yanked the package out of Hermione's hand. With a mighty heave, he hurled it into the air as hard as he could.

" _Ast Ut Nihil_."

The wave of heat slammed into the package, instantly reducing and its contents to charcoal and embers. A moment later a flying wizard slammed into the glowing mass, scattering ash and sparks everywhere. The wizard screamed as he vanished from sight. The students occupying the near half of the Hufflepuff table screamed even louder as tiny bits of burning snack rained over them.

Hermione stared at them in shock as Harry dropped back into his seat.

"Uh, we can explain…"

"Right. So you get mad when me and Harry melt a few rocks, but it's perfectly okay for you to help him set a member of our own house on fire!?" Hermione demanded. "Really?"

"That's what you're mad about?" Neville grumbled. "And how do you know he was a Gryffindor? I couldn't even saw him in all the ash and stuff."

"Neither could I," Hermione declared. Raising an ash-covered set of Gryffindor robes she continued, "But if the robe fits, wear it."

Neville buried his face in his hands and moaned. "I think there might be something seriously wrong with us."

"Us!? Did we seriously just set someone on fire without anyone noticing!?" Harry demanded.

"Neville… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Hermione apologized.

"You should be. You made me lose count."

"Well, you'll just have to start over. Now, come on. You've got jelly and barbecue sauce all over your hands! Not only is that the most disgusting sandwich I've ever heard of, it's making a mess of your face. Here," Hermione scolded him. She handed over a rather nice, monogrammed handkerchief.

Neville accepted it and began wiping himself up. "Works better than a piece of toast, at least. Who's C.D.?"

Hermione shrugged and held up another hanky. "The guy that went by before R.D., I guess. Think they're related?"

"Seriously, charm or not, how could anyone _not_ notice that?" Harry continued. "We _set someone on fire_!"

Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, they definitely noticed the fire, at least. That sort of thing is hard to miss, and it was definitely outside of the charm. But your spell wasn't directed towards them or their property, and it didn't really present a threat to them or someone they care about. It wasn't all that flashy, aside from you jumping on your chair, and there's really not much to connect the event to us… If anything, the screaming wizard probably drew attention _away_ from us."

There was a shriek as she reached into the air. Lowering her limb, she stared at her hand in confusion. Instead of a robe, she was holding a button-down shirt and bra.

"Oops. I missed," she announced. "I feel kind of bad about that. It seems cruel to steal someone's clothing when you don't get any loot out of it. Hey, she pads her chest. That's just kind of sad..."

"How did you even do that? Harry demanded. "I mean, it's not like she was walking around with her shirt undone. How the heck is that possible?"

Hermione shrugged and tossed the clothing aside. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if I might have some kind of mysterious powers."

"One. Starting over sucks…" Neville muttered, smearing jelly and sauce across the stolen handkerchief.

"That joke wasn't funny when I made it, you know," Harry groaned.

"So, what've we got altogether? Anything interesting?" Neville inquired as he finished wiping up.

"I'm still looking, but nothing really interesting so far. A couple of diaries of some sort. They're probably amusing, so I'll keep them to read later. A letter from someone's mother. Apparently Tracey forgot to pack knickers. Uh… a pair of panties. I think looking in that pocket before I stuck my hand in there is the best thing I'll do all day. Maybe they should have let Tracey borrow them? Here's some spearmint gum. Want some Popping Peanuts to go with it?"

"No!" Harry and Neville shouted together.

"O~kay… does that mean we're setting someone on fire with them? Because I get to throw it this time."

"You know, maybe we should leave an anonymous note for Madam Pomfrey saying she should stock up on burn cream," Neville suggested. "It's only polite, considering so many people have already donated to our cause."

"Or we could see if the twins can make burn cream, then sell it to people and use the money we get to set them on fire as punishment for their crimes, then sell them more burn cream and make more money," Harry suggested.

"Harry, sometimes I think you might be a genius. I… uh… what is that?"

The trio stared at it.

"It's a… something in a container," Hermione decided.

"Is it looking at me?" Harry asked. "Are those eyes?"

"I think it might have been someone's lunch at one point," Neville theorized.

"Is it moving, or am I seeing things?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure it just made a very rude gesture, so… yes, it's moving"

"That container doesn't look too sturdy…" Neville said nervously. "That's really thin glass. Is it just me, or is it cracking?"

"We should probably get rid of it," Hermione declared. She tossed it into the air just in time for a flying witch to intercept it. Her loud shriek could be heard long after she faded from sight.

"Okay, you guys aren't even the least bit curious about that?" Neville demanded, pointing towards the staff table.

Just as he did, a cheering wizard came into sight. He shot down Snow's ice slide and rocketed off a jump that'd been added to the end. He just barely missed several ice spikes as he launched off the landing. Hiis flight carried him across the Hall at an angle, shooting him into a curved, wooden half-pipe that was attached high on the wall by a cluster of vines. The structure redirected him to fly across the room, straight over all four tables. He proceeded to hit the ramp of melted stone, vanishing as he slid up the surface.

"Obviously the twins took advantage of the girls' ice slide idea and turned it into a ride. I have no doubt they're taking a hefty fee, most likely in an attempt to scrape together some war funds," Hermione hummed as she rifled through the wizard's pockets."I'm just curious how they're getting people to the top of the glacial disaster. Somehow I doubt they're being delivered via sparrow..."

"So… we should go look, right?"

"Neville…" Harry began. "Do you just really want to ride the ice slide?"

"...yes," Neville admitted.

"It's okay," Harry reassured him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "We do too. Right?"

"Certainly," Hermione agreed. "As I said, I'm also quite curious how they're managing their ascent. There's just one last thing." She slapped two wands on the table and gave Harry a challenging look.

The wizard accepted them and stared at them intently. After a moment, he shrugged and tossed them into the air.

What followed was one of those odd moments during which a person sees everything with absolute clarity. For one small second, the world slows to a crawl. Tiny details that would normally go unnoticed stand out like a flame in the darkness.

Draco Malfoy passed over the table. The wands, spinning through the air, chose that moment to line up perfectly. The flying wizard received two wands tip-first to the face, one in each eye. Harry, Hermione and Neville quite clearly saw the surface of his eyes ripple under the impact. The boy howled in pain as he vanished from sight.

"Okay, I admit it. I'm impressed," Hermione sighed as a lump of fabric landed on the table. "But to my credit, I still managed to get…" She trailed off, giving the wad of shredded fabric she held a confused look. More large scraps of fabric rained down around them. A single, large piece of ruined apparel drifted to rest on Draco's cloak.

The three stared at the pink scrap, studying the large, red heart on it.

"Did… did you seriously just…" Harry stuttered.

Neville shook his head in denial. "There's no way. You can't actually do that. You just can't."

"Magic, Neville. Magic. It holds infinite possibilities. It might even turn a window into a flesh-ravaging monstrosity from beyond the far reaches of sanity. Compared to that, this is pretty believable."

"Harry, what're you-"

"He… hehe... " Hermione started to giggle. It only took a moment for her to progress into full-blown cackling. Staring at her hand, she howled, "Lord Nev has granted me _power_!"

"Oh, Merlin… Don't you start that too…"

"Right. So, Hermione just went insane. That seems to be going around," Harry observed. "So, who wants to ride the horrifically unsafe improvised icy death-slide?"

"I do! I totally do!" Neville cheered. He paused and thought for a moment. "But… I want Hermione to ride it in front of me. Just in case."

"Well, yeah. I thought that went without saying at this point," Harry agreed. The trio stood and started gathering their things.

"Oh, come on. I wouldn't steal _your_ robes," Hermione protested. "I know you don't have anything valuable in there."  
"I've got a Chocolate Frog," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't want that. It's for the girls. I'm not some kind of horrible thief. Oh! Score!" Hermione exclaimed, holding four Sickles up for them to see. "Drico was loaded."

"How did you shred his robe, yet somehow manage to leave the pockets intact?"

Hermione favored Harry with a condescending smile. "The pockets are important, Harry. The robes aren't."

"Does it worry anyone else that we've gone from being worried people wouldn't like us to actively robbing them in less than a week?" Neville asked curiously.

"Nope."

"We're not _robbing_ people, Neville. Robbing involves the use of force. We're _stealing_ from them," Hermione huffed. "And we're not even doing that. It's not my fault they lost their robes."

"Hermione? You just tore Drico's clothes to shreds. I think that counts as using force."  
Neville nodded. "Yeah, and when someone 'loses' their robes because you grabbed them, I'm pretty sure most people would call that your fault."

"Oh, fine. We're mugging classmates. Are you happy?" Hermione sighed.

"Yep. I got a frog."

"I got some gum. Also, I'm pretty sure that guy we set on fire 'accidentally' pushed me into a wall yesterday."

"Don't worry Neville," Harry comforted him. "I'm pretty sure he won't do that again."

"And if he does, we can always accidentally set him on fire again," Hermione added.

Neville glanced at her. "Uh, I'm pretty sure it's not an accident if we're planning to do it."

"It is if we're planning to do it accidentally."

"So, now we're setting people on fire and accidentally mugging them? That's the plan?" Neville asked curiously. "Isn't that something we should feel bad about?"

"I don't. Not really. Is that weird?" Harry asked.

"I don't thinks so. I Personally blame years of repressed anger and resentment stemming from suffering under a society that isolated us, and growing up in a situation where we had an overabundance of mental stimulation, but minimal social development."

"So we're setting people on fire because of society?"

"Yes, Harry. It's definitely society's fault. Through no fault of our own, we've clearly developed a skewed set of morals and behavior patterns coupled with an abnormal degree of knowledge and ability to reason," Hermione stated firmly.

"If you say so."

"Honestly, the way people treated me never did much more than upset me and make me sad. I guess I just assumed that was how it should be. I'm finding it quite a bit less tolerable now," Hermione muttered darkly.

"Oh, good. I was worried it was just me…" Neville sighed.

"And by the way, Neville, we're mugging them and _then_ accidentally setting them on fire. I'm pretty sure you can't mug someone on accident and the order's pretty important on this one," Hermione corrected.

"Right. The chocolate would get all melted if we verified them before we mugged them." Harry agreed.

"And we'd kind of get burnt if their robes were on fire."

"Oh, that's bad too…"

"You know, those toffee bits might be even better if they were a little meltier…"

"You do realize we can still melt them if they're not in someone's pocket, right?"

Hermione giggled. "I know. But when I was alone at recess and things like that, I used to think the only thing as good as having people like me would be punching them in the bollocks for being mean to me," Hermione declared thoughtfully. "As it turns out, I was quite right."

"Technically they _haven't_ been mean to us."

"Ah, but they would have, Harry. I mean, were people mean to you before you came here?"

"Yes," Harry responded without hesitation. "Very…"

"Me and Gran didn't go out much, but when we went to parties and stuff…"

"Exacty! Now, have you seen one thing here that suggests Hogwarts would be different? Other than our fellow justicedingers?"

"...justicedingers?"

"People who hand out justicedings. Justicedingers."

"Ah. Then, no. No one seems all that nice aside from our justicedingers."

"See? Then it stands to reason that they would have been mean to us eventually. Heck, they're _already_ being mean to Neville, and for such a silly reason. How much do you think it would take for them to turn on us?"

"Not much," Harry admitted. "Not much at all."

"So we're simply preemptively justiceding people for crimes we know they'll commit. We're a deterrent, like the police!"

"I don't think I've ever seen a policeman mug someone because they look like they were about to do something wrong."

"Ah, but don't you think there'd be less crime if they _did_?" Hermione smiled triumphantly.

Harry thought about that for several seconds. "Wow. You're right. We're like, better than the police. We're superheroes!"

"We probably fit the antihero archetype a bit better, but whatever. Hey, you guys wanna make a bet?" Hermione suddenly asked as they stopped in front of the main entrance.

"Depends…"

"How're the twins getting people to the top of the tower? Winner gets one thing - within reason - from the other two."

Harry nodded. "If I win, your next shipment of Blue Stallion is mine, Hermness. I've decided I like caffeine. I'll figure out something for Neville later."

"Fine. When _I_ win, you have to braid my hair for a month, Harry. I'm not sure what I'd want from Neville yet."

"...braid your hair?"

"What? Have you _seen_ my hair? It's absurd. I've lost brushes in there, Harry. _Brushes_!" Hermione shouted dramatically. "Orchid clearly made the ramp and tube thing, so I'm guessing they shanghaied her. I bet she made a plant ladder, too."

Neville groaned. "You know, it kind of scares me I don't know what either of you want… Fine. If I win, neither of you can set something on fire without my permission for two weeks. I'm guessing illegal apparition."

"Teleporting," Hermione answered before Harry could open his mouth.

"Oh. Fine. But you don't need to be so dramatic. We're not pyromaniacs, Neville," Harry protested.

Neville slowly turned towards their former seats, leveling an accusing glare as he pointed at a small flame burning on the table. "Why is the relish burning, Harry? Why did you need to verify the relish?"

"...it was wizard relish?"

"It was for sci- magic, Neville. Sacrifices have to be made."

"Right. Make that a month. I win, and neither of you can verify things without my permission for a month."

"But- but… my silverware!" Harry protested.

Hermione gave him a curious look. "What silverware?"

The boy gave his bag a solid smack, producing a metallic rattle. "A new fork appears on the table if the one you're using gets lower than your seat. It's like magic!"  
"It is magic, Harry. It's probably so you don't have to use a dirty fork if you drop one," Hermione reasoned. "How many did you get?"

"Not as much as I wanted," he pouted. "There wasn't much room with all the other crap in here."

"Uh, yeah. Why is your bag so full, anyway? What've you got in there?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "Aside from a few things, I don't really know."

"Harry, why don't you know what the things in your bag are?"

The other boy gazed at him intently. "Neville…" he began.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Did you know it's really easy to take things out of people's pockets?" he inquired. Opening his bag, he revealed that it was packed to the brim with silverware and random objects of all descriptions. "That guy bumped into me when he pushed Neville. I felt something in his pocket and I just kind of… took it. I've been trying it on other people, and they don't even seem to notice. They keep all kinds of things in open pockets. It's like they _want_ me to take them."

"You took all that crap since yesterday?" Neville asked, clearly impressed.

"What? No, of course not," Harry denied. "This is just the stuff I still have. It's pretty easy to put things _into_ pockets, too."

Hermione gave him one of those "are you an idiot" looks. "Harry, you've been putting things back _into_ people's pockets!?"  
"Yup," he answered proudly.

"Why!? Those could have been _our_ things! That's a terrible waste!" she scolded him. "Why would you even bother taking things if they're not going to be our things?"

"Hermione… there's a fourth-year Ravenclaw that's going to reach into his pocket, discover that his bag of peanuts is missing and wonder why he's carrying a handful of tampons, a pocket watch and a wad of chewed gum in a Chocolate Frog wrapper," he declared with a grin. "I've also been replacing the quills people have in their bags with other quills that are a different color, just to see if anyone notices."

The other two stared at him in amazement.

"That's… incredible…"

"Yup. There was a third-year Hufflepuff that was carrying a spare pair of panties for some reason. I gave them to a one of her third-year housemates. I'm thinking he's not gonna have a good day."

"Maybe not. Were they green-striped with a little bow on the front?" Hermione asked.

"...uh, yeah."

"We… might have stolen those twice. I think they're in the pile of robes.

"What pile of robes?" Harry asked curiously.

"The pile of robes on the-"

Behind them, panicked screams erupted as a plume of smoke wound to the ceiling.

Harry's friends stared at him suspiciously.

"Wow. That burning jar of catsup I accidentally knocked off the table took longer to set that pile of robes it coincidentally landed in on fire than I thought it would."

"Harry…" Neville groaned.

"What? No one can blame us for it when we're nowhere near the combustibles when they combust."

"He's got a point," Hermione agreed.

"Guys, if things keep bursting into flames around us, I'm pretty sure someone's gonna figure it out eventually."

"No, it's okay Neville," Hermione reassured him. "No one can blame us if Ravenclaw decides to start a fire with stolen robes."

"What?"

"Well, even though Harry was selfish and kept all the fire to himself, I decided to get rid of the evidence. Piles of robes slide on ice pretty good, I guess. One little kick and it made it all the way to Ravenclaw's table."

There was a loud woof of inrushing air. The screams redoubled as a strong flash blue light appeared a little ways down the hall. A faint concussion wave slammed into their backs.

"Hermione? Did you search _all_ the robes?" Harry asked.

"Nah. Didn't have time. I'd say I stole too many, but I'm pretty sure that's not possible."

"Uh, what're the chances someone was carrying something _really_ flammable?"

"Well, a lot of potions react weird to hot fires," Neville replied.

"I think we just discovered a wizard flash-bang, guys. I wonder if we can reproduce it…"

Harry nodded. "Right. So… time to get out of the dining hall before someone blames us for something that was our fault?"

"Hold on!" Hermione commanded, stopping him before he could take a step. "What's your bet?"

"Oh, right. Almost forgot about that," he muttered. Humming to himself, he thought for several seconds before suddenly announcing, "Catapult."

His friends both gave him the "are you stupid" look.

"Really, Harry? Catapult?" Hermione snickered. "You really think Fred and George are…" She trailed off slowly as she notice the pale look on Neville's face. The color quickly drained from hers, painting her a matching shade. "That's… exactly what they'd do, isn't it?"

Harry grinned. "I just thought to myself, 'what's the stupidest and most insane thing I can do to get someone twelve stories in the air?' and there it was."

"Let's not panic. It's not time to panic yet," Neville advised Hermione. "They might have found a _stupider_ and _more_ insane way to do it than Harry can think of."

"Neville. He's been giving the things he pickpockets _back_ ," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. We're screwed," Neville sighed. "Let's just get it over with."

"Suckers," Harry snickered.

The three strode forward, allowing the main entrance to open for them. There, in the middle of the courtyard, they saw…

"Oh, vasco," Neville muttered. Realizing he was getting a pair of weird looks, he thought for a moment before observing, "That's odd. It just kind of slipped out. What the heck is a vasco?"

Harry told them.

Hermione and Neville stood frozen before him. Their faces were pale, their eyes were wide and their jaws hung open. Hermione's hair had drooped slightly, while a single tear rolled down Neville's cheek.

"Yup. That's pretty much it," Harry declared cheerfully.

"Harry…" Hermione began in a hoarse whisper. "I'd say someone should wash your mouth out with soap and water, but I'm pretty sure sulfuric acid and a power sander wouldn't do the job."

"Urp. I think I'm gonna rainbow…" Neville choked out.

"You shouldn't do that, Nev," Harry advised. "Don't you wanna go on the death-slide?"

Color immediately returned to the other boy's face. "You're right! Let's go!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"The prospect of plummeting down twelve stories on an unsafe slide made you feel _better_!?" Hermione demanded.

"Yup. Come on!"

"Yeah, Hermione. Let's go check out the guys'... _catapult,_ " Harry added.

* * *

A/N:

So, Harry and Hermione might be leaning a tiny bit towards the less sane side of the scale. Personally, I blame society. God knows what years of repression, isolation and betrayal did to those poor kids' psyches. There's also the fact that writing this chapter was fun as hell. Something about the image of Harry and Hermione setting things on fire, stealing stuff and wanding people in the eyes just tickled my pickle.

Seriously, I'm not sure what else to say about this one, other than the fact that I have no idea how Harry and Hermione became kleptomaniacs. It looks like poor Neville is going to be taking up Hermione's role in cannon. He's clearly the sanest and most responsible of the three, which is kind of like having the best sight in a school for the blind.

A guest reviewer voiced a concern that Harry was headed for a harem of familiars. First of all, thanks for taking the time to review. Second of all, no he isn't. There's two major reasons for this.

The first big reason is that I'm not really a fan of harem stories. If I read on, it's _in spite of_ the harem. Just really have a hard time thinking it'd work. One guy would have to get a dozen girls to love him, they'd have to agree to share and they'd have to like each other enough not to start the murderin'. A lot of harem stories either strip the girls' personalities down to nothing or deus-ex-machina the hall out of things to make it work. I've got nothing against the stories or their authors, I'm just not a fan.

A harem always seemed like it'd be more work that it was worth to me.

The other reason is because it really isn't possible without violating the laws of my own universe. A familiar can _never_ love anyone more than her master. It's literally impossible. While this doesn't totally rule out the possibility of other relationships, it would make serious ones very unlikely. Considering how devoted you'd have to be to share someone, it makes the harem scenario even less likely.

Despite the jokes about Harry "seducing" familiars away, it's really more of a familial thing. The ones that decided they like him see him as a favored pet or cute younger brother. There's going to be a couple of exceptions, but even they're not really romantic relationships. They range from awkward to creepy as hell.

Also, it's important to stop and consider what Angel's reaction to someone trying something like that would be…

So, I guess this raises the question of why the vast majority of humanlike familiars are female.

It hasn't been pointed out in the story, but people have a tendency to summon familiars of the opposite gender. Since most of Rowling's - and for the moment my - major characters are male, it leads to something of a gender disparity. I also find it a bit easier to create jokes based around awkward events based on the male / female relationship than I do the female / male. A female familiar can mess with her master in ways that I'd be unpleasant and creepy for a male familiar to.

Also, at some point along the way I decided that all humanlike familiars hate clothing. I'm not sure when or how that happened, but it did. And, honestly, I like picturing a castle filled with half-naked female demihumans a lot more than male. So sue me, I'm a pervert.  
Next up: more stuff gets stolen, unstolen and reallocated. Like, a lot of stuff. People should probably start nailing stuff down. Also, maybe some people aren't as responsible as they seem...


	16. Hot Meat and Wet Panties

Something Familiar

Chapter 16: "Hot Meat and Wet Panties"

AKA: "Watch Out, Watch On"

* * *

Hogwarts looked something like the bastard child of a medieval fort and a royal residence. The castle was more or less in the shape of a large, hollow square. The four sides were long, wide buildings that housed the majority of the school's facilities. One the east side was the main gate, the only real opening into the middle and the largest way in or out of the school. The main entrance and Great Hall were on the other side of the courtyard, exactly opposite it.

Aside from the massive Astronomy Tower above the Great Hall, a smaller tower was located on each corner of the castle. Located in the northeast, Ravenclaw tower overlooked Black Lake. Gryffindors were stored in the opposite corner, staring out over the dark Forbidden Forest. The only notable facilities outside the castle were Quidditch Pitch to the south and the greenhouses clustered around the northwest corner.

At some point during the course of the morning, the courtyard had acquired a pair of large trees that Hermione didn't quite recognize offhand. The microforest served as the base and supporting foundation for a strange device. The structure was made entirely of wood and vines. It resembled a catapult, though it had considerably more pieces than normal. Four smaller trees were connected to one side of it by thin, thick, leafy cords, bent over and trembling as they struggled to right themselves. The general structure housed a long lever, the platform on the end pulled back nearly to the ground.

"Next!" George yelled.

A young witch in Hufflepuff robes came forward and handed him a few coins. The then proceeded to walk over and stand in front of Angel, who was stationed next to the catapult.

"Weight?" the cat asked.

The witch blushed slightly and mumbled, "45kg…"

Angel stared at her for a moment, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Headwig."

The tiny owl buzzed down and shot to the witch's rear, snatching her by the collar and hauling her off the ground. The bird held her there for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. Finally she released the witch and gave a hoot.

Angel looked down at the witch as she climbed to her feet. "You know, right before someone tosses you at a castle is no~t a good time to lie…" she giggled. She raised her hand, revealing that her fingers were twined with tiny creepers. "Flo~wer~. Adjusting for 48.1kg," she announced loudly.

There was a series of creaks and groans from the siege engine. Vines tightened and wooden pieces shifted slightly as Angel twitched her fingers. After a moment the sounds stopped. Orchid gave Angel a questioning look from her perch in one of the large trees.

Harry's familiar examined the contraption critically. "Yep! That should do it! In you go!"

The witch hesitantly climbed onto the platform, an obviously nervous look on her face. "Uh… one of my roommates said this is really fun… but are you sure it's sa-"

"No refunds," Angel announced. "Bye~bye~!"

The vines holding the lever down released, allowing it to snap upwards violently. There was a terrified scream as the witch vanished into the sky.

"You've got to be kidding me…" Hermione protested. "This is just _stupid_!"

Neville pointed curiously at the long line of students leading to the catapult. "Do you mean the fact that so many people are waiting to be used as projectiles, or the fact that the Fred and George are firing people out of a catapult?"

"The first one, obviously."

"Yeah. The second one's awesome," Harry added. "I mean, people actually _paying_ you to launch them into orbit? It's like Christmas, but with more good things."

Neville nodded in agreement.

Hermione stared at them. "Uh, guys… What are you-"

"Hey!" George yelled as he walked up to them. "We were wondering when you'd get up. Have a busy night last night?"

"Busy night?" Harry asked curiously.

"Slept like a log," Neville added.

"We didn't do anything!" Hermione announced.

All three boys turned to look at her with exasperated expressions.

"Smooth, Lady Hermness. You might want to work on that," George rebuked.

Hermione blushed.

"So, we're launching people out of catapults now?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nope!" Angel's voice answered from behind him, nearly scaring him enough to splash water in the boat. Before he could react, her hands snaked under his armpits and hauled him into the air. The cat nuzzled the back neck ignoring his struggling and and giggled shouts of protest. "It's an ar-se'nan."

"What's an ar-se'nan? And please don't just point at it and say 'it's a that' Angel," Hermione instructed.

"Fine…" Angel sighed, clearly disappointed. She placed her master on his feet and answered, "It mean 'tactical, high-precision, extreme-range, ballistic anti-personnel siege armament' in the other language."

"It… translates into all that?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Oh, no. Of course not. I left the parts that weren't important out," she giggled. "People aren't always good at naming-"

There was a loud hoot.

"Oops. One sec," Angel apologised. She turned and took a brief look at the ar-se'nan. "Eh, good enough," she decided, waving a hand.

A screaming wizard vanished into the sky.

"Yeah, so… wait… did she say 45 kg or 54 kg…?" she wondered pensively.

Hermione stared at her in horror. "Isn't that, you know, kind of important?"

Angel shrugged dismissively. "Probably, but I've only missed once. One out of sixty-eight isn't bad, right?"

"You _missed_?" Harry demanded.

"Oh, it's not a big deal. She went, 'whee~' right into the lake," Angel reassured him. "It was that girl… Pinsy? Pugsy? You know, the one that looks like someone hit her in the nose with a bi~g rock."

"Pansy. Yes, I know her. It would be surprising if I didn't, considering she was just telling me how ugly I was yesterday," Hermione muttered.

"I know! That wasn't very nice, and she's not right at all. Your hair would be really pretty if you took better care of it…" Angel shrugged. "Some people are just so~ silly."

"Wait. How do you know about that?" Hermione demanded.

Angel giggled, "Oh, I was in your bag. I ride with you a lot instead of My Boy. It makes me feel like a creepy pervert when I watch him use the bathroom."

"You've been sneaking into my bag?"

"You've been watching me _pee_!?"

"Uh… that depends. Who would be less madder if I said, 'yes' to them?"

"I'm… thinking that would probably be me…" Hermione groaned.

"Wait. You accidentally launched the girl that was making fun of Hermione into Black Lake?" Neville inquired. "Because… that doesn't really seem like an accident.

Angel gave him an affronted look. "Of _course_ it was an accident. I was aiming for Mr. Tentacles, but it's hard to hit a moving target with an ar-se'nan. Usually you wait until someone's asleep and toss a rock through their window."

"Don't worry, guys. It's perfectly safe. Aside from that little accident-"

"It was an anemone," Angel declared.

Hermione sighed, "Anomaly, Angel. It was an anomaly."

"Of course it was an anomaly. That's why I called it one."

"You said, 'it was an anemone' just now."

Angel put a hand over her mouth and giggled. "It's not 'anemone' silly Hermoney. 'Anomaly' is a hard word, though, so don't feel bad."

"Anyway, it's safe. Fred's up there on a broom, and he'll catch anyone that looks like they're going off course," George declared.

"He can do that?" Hermione queried in an impressed tone.

George shook his head. "Nope. That's what we've been telling people, though. He's really just giving them a good kick they look like they're gonna miss the tower. Sometimes if they don't, too."

Hermione pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Good enough, I guess. Bruised ribs are better than going splat on the ground."

"So, uh, you guys wouldn't know anything about some missing robes, would you? Because that seems to be going around…"

Hermione gave him an affronted look. "If someone's silly enough to lose their robes, how would we know where they left them?"

"You realize that's bad for business, right? It's a good thing they come out on the other side where people can't see 'em. So far we've had people come out robeless, topless, naked, on fire, being attacked by some green thing, and that one witch that was stripped, tied up and covered in some kind of sticky orange sludge," George sighed. "That last one was a bit much, by the way. She hit the turf pretty hard when Bubbles refused to catch her on the other side."

The trio exchanged confused glances.

"Uh… that wasn't us, George…" Harry declared.

"Really? Weird… and kinda creepy," George muttered. "Good job on Draco, though. How the hell did you strip him, poke him in the eyes and cover him with jelly and barbecue sauce that quick?"

Hermione and Harry turned and gave Neville a matched set of surprised looks.

"What? How was I supposed to know the jars would break when they hit him?" he asked defensively.

"Just… don't do anything else real obvious, okay? Just the thought of not being able to catapult people makes me kinda depressed…"

"Sorry, George. Would some candy make you feel better?" Harry asked, opening his bag. "We've got a pack of Every Flavor Beans, two of Insta-Ice Mints, four chocolate bars, seven toffees, twelve suckers, three things of licorice, two more packs of gum, some Pucker Lips, assorted hard candies and something called a Creeping Slime. I… don't even want to know, do I?"

"They're actually pretty good," George proclaimed as he took a chocolate bar. "Harry? Why do you have a bag full of candy? And… a lot more bracelets than one person needs. And a bunch of rings. Merlin, how much silverware do you have in there? And I'm pretty sure you didn't have a dozen necklaces when- Hey, is that Lee's pendant?"

Harry grinned sheepishly and handed the jewelry over. "Yeah, that was an accident. I was gonna put it back later. He can keep the bracelet, though. It looked good on him. Oh, do you like your watch?"

"Harry, I don't have a…" George trailed off and stared down at his wrist. Raising his arm, he examined the thick metal band around his wrist. "Yeah, that is pretty nice. Also, what the hell?"

"It seems Harry has sticky fingers. He's been stealing things and redistributing them to other students," Hermione explained. She idly slapped a belt against her palm as she sighed. "It's something of a bad habit, if I do say so myself."

"Where-" George cut off abruptly as his trousers fell down around his ankles. "Okay, what the _hell_!?" he demanded.

"Uh, yeah… Hermione's got a thing for other people's clothes, I guess. I'd say you should watch out for that, but… it doesn't seem like there's any point," Harry sighed with a shrug.

George calmly took his belt back and secured his pants. Once he was decent again, he fixed Neville with a suspicious stare. "Alright, let's have it. What're you gonna do to me?"

Neville pouted. "Nothing. I'm feeling kind of useless, really…"

"Oh, don't say that, Neville," Harry said, patting him on the shoulder. "Me and Hermione can't make rune arrays, can we?"

"I guess," he muttered. "Not that I can actually, you know, _do_ that…"

Hermione frowned at her friend. "I see. Harry, there's a red notebook in Neville's bag."

"This one?" Harry asked, holding up a small, red notebook. Ignoring Neville's protests, he tossed it to Hermione. "Here. Oh, and the cap to your inkwell was coming loose. I closed it for you."

The witch quickly paged through the notebook, flipping past a few dozen pages full of scribbled out formulae, notes and half-finished diagrams. She quickly located the last filled page and held the open book up for George to see.

"Okay, I give up. What'm I looking at here?" he asked as he squinted that the half-finished diagram. "I'm probably not reading this right, but I'm pretty sure Fred can't bend far enough to do that."

"He's been scribbling in that notebook since we talked Thursday," Hermione explained. One of her hands was covering the struggling boy's face, keeping him away from his notes. "He must have borrowed his weight in books from the library."

George examined the diagram critically. "You filled half a notebook with this crap in four days?"

"A third," Hermione reflexively corrected.

"I- I'm sorry. That's the best I've been able to come up with so far. I'm sure I can get it right eventually!" Neville promised.

"Lord Nev, I can't even _read_ this. I'm not even real sure what this is supposed to be…"

Neville slumped. "I thought it would be better to use some traditional gaelic runes with the modern ones. They didn't really work with the egyptian symbology, and I'm pretty sure I got some of the angles wrong."  
George stared at the dejected boy in disbelief. "No… Nev… I think you're misunderstanding something here. I'm saying telling me to look at this is like telling a chipmunk to recite all Shakespeare's plays from memory. Backwards. And he's a _dumb_ chipmunk."

"Hey! You take that back!" came Angel's angry should. She was back by the siege weapon, thrusting one hand towards George. A very annoyed chipmunk was sitting on her hand.

"Kitten, you know I'm not talking about Professor Nutmuncher. I said a _dumb_ chipmunk…" George sighed. "Any fool can see he's an intelligent and refined gentleman."

Angel frowned at him. "Well, fine. But watch it in the future. Oh, Nev-Nev, Munchy says your tertiary axis is off by half a degree, and you forgot to compensate for axial drift in the northeast ellipsoid."

The boy quickly snatched the book away from Hermione and examined the page. His face lit up as he studied the partially finished array. "Oh, he's right! I was wondering why the bottom runes seemed off… I don't suppose he know how to bridge 'eru' and 'ahn' together properly?"

"Don't be weird. Muncy's a chipmunk. Chipmunks can't read," Angel announced with a giggle. "They're much better at advanced geometry and physics."

"Ah. Of course…" Neville muttered. "Do you think I could borrow him now and then?"

"Hm… he's usually pretty busy teaching classes at Cambridge. He'd be willing to look over your work occasionally, though."

Hermione stared at her. "A… squirrel teaches at Cambridge? Why in the world would a squirrel be teaching at Cambridge?"

The rodent chittered.

"He says it's because he was kicked out of Harvard after a little sex scandal involving most of the the Phi Beta Kappa sorority, a swimming pool full of lime jello, three midgets and an emu."

"Right…" Hermione muttered. Turning back George she remarked, "I have to say, I'm quite surprised the staff are letting you do this…"

"Oh, they're not, really," he announced and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I think they're busy dealing with the fire in the dungeons…"

Harry stared at him. "The… dungeons are on fire?"

"It might actually be a little more accurate to say the dungeons _are_ fire. We smeared every flat surface we could find with a flammable potion. The stuff burns really good and it's real hard to put out," George giggled. "One little spark and _BOOM_! It blasted Fred straight back up the stairs."

"You do realize that was horribly dangerous, right? Someone might have gotten hurt. Or killed, even!" Hermione scolded.

George shrugged. "We set off a crap-ton of Dungbombs to clear the place and we checked to see if anyone was wandering around still. No one got hurt," he reassured her. "Well, except Fred. And our anti-concussion potion stock. At this rate I'll have to borrow some more by the end of October…"

"Does it worry anyone else that they had enough of that potion to get the whole dungeon…?" Neville asked.

"We only had twenty flasks of it," George shrugged. "All the stuff to make it grows pretty close to our house. We were planning to sell it as a snack, but then you guys had to go and start burning down the castle."

"...you were going to sell a highly-combustible material as a snack…?" Hermione asked blandly.

"Sure! The stuff tastes unbelievable. Wanna try?" George held up a small glass jar full of an amber gel. "We call it Firehole Gelly."

"No." "No!" "Sure."

Hermione and Neville turned to look at Harry.

"Harry, I don't think you should eat that…" Neville cautioned.

"What? He said it tastes good," Harry retorted. He snatched up the jar, popped it open and dunked a finger in. Sticking it in his mouth, his face brightened. "Hey, that _is_ good!"

"Just makes sure you're quick next time you hit a stall, okay? It tends to make toilets explode after a few minutes. That's why we call it Firehole Gelly."

"Oh. Maybe I should use that urinal…"

"Harry, don't use urinals for that," Hermione scolded him. "And if you _are_ going to, don't use the one that bites people in the rear." She thought for a moment. "Um… George? You wouldn't happen to… have any whole flasks of that left?" she asked casually.

Before the redhead could speak, Harry answered, "If he does, he's not carrying them. I already checked."

"You realize you could have just asked, right? And by the way," George raised his arm and held his wrist up to the light. "I liked the other watch better. I don't think silver suits me."

"Really? I thought you'd like it."

"Nah, too flashy. I don't know why you're so disappointed, Hermness. I really don't think you guys need help setting things on fire. How the hell'd you melt all that rock, anyway?" George inquired.

Hermione giggled. "It _was_ a lot of rocks, wasn't it? Harry melted them with the spell you showed us. I'm afraid Neville and I haven't quite mastered it, though."

"You… melted a boatload of stone with the Incineration Spell?"

"Yup," Harry happily responded. "It was _awesome_."

"Except for the part where we nearly entombed ourselves in boiling stone. The rest was pretty awesome, though."

"You guys… you're kidding, right?" George asked. "Because that's not actually a thing you can do."

His adopted first-years gave him a trio of confused looks.

"The Incineration Spell if for trash disposal, guys. You said you wanted to set things on fire, so we showed you an easy way to light paper and wood up,' he explained. "You shouldn't be able to do anything else with it."

Harry gave him a confused look. "What do you mean? I just charged it up as far as I could and all the stone went splat."

"It takes him something like seven and a half minutes to get there, but it's pretty impressive when he does. I never knew rocks could turn such a beautiful shade of red," Hermione sighed happily.

George frowned in confusion. "Harry, you don't charge the spell. It's just a quick pop of heat."

"That's weird…" Harry muttered. He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. "Here, let me-"

"Whoa!" George snapped, grabbing his wrist. "Later, okay. There's like, a ton of people around."

"Can't you just make them not notice us? You're better at the charm than Hermione."

"It doesn't matter how good I am. It makes people _less_ likely to notice you than they'd normally be. I told you: do something flashy, really interesting or _anything_ that draws a lot of attention to your general area, it's not that hard for people to see through," George scolded. "Don't' do anything towards someone. Don't do _anything_ that conflicts with someone's self-interest or personal safety. And _don't_ do anything even remotely weird around professors. They'll see right through it."

The trio nodded as Harry put back his wand.

"Good. It's a great low-key privacy charm, but if people realize we're using it and start to get curious it'll be useless. Once you know what you're looking for, it as about effective as wet tissue paper."

"Where did you learn such a thing, anyway?" Hermione asked. "I paged through a couple of books on privacy charms after you showed me, but I can't find anything like it. I can't even find anything similar. Everything else is..."

"A lot less subtle?" George finished, getting a nod in response. "Sorry, but I can't tell you. And before you get upset, I men _literally_ can't tell you. If I try, my jaw'll just clamp shut so hard it'll probably break my teeth."

"You're under an oath?" Neville asked.

"I didn't say that. There's some things… Crap! We're idiots! How the hell did we forget that?" George snapped. He started swearing under his breath.

"George? Are you okay?"

The older boy grabbed Harry by the shoulders and looked down at him. "Harry. Before you burned his class down, did Snape look you in the eyes? Did he look _any_ of you in the eyes!?"

"Uh… no?"

"I was… looking at my knife…"

"I don't believe so," Hermione responded. "George, what's wrong?"

"The greaseball is a damn Legilimens. If he looks you in the eye, he can see what you're thinking. He uses it all the time. In our first year, he kept 'somehow' catching us in the act until-" George's jaw slammed shut. "Ow!"

"Wow. That looked painful," Harry observed.

"It is…" George growled between gritted teeth. "Damn it, let me open my damn mouth!"

The first-years watched curiously as their older friend fought with his jaw for a moment. Finally, he managed to convince it to open.

George gave a relieve gasp. "I hate that. Anyway, _someone-who-shall-not-be-mentioned_ told us about it. It requires direct eye contact, it takes a sec to kick in and can only read surface thoughts unless he really nails you. If he starts looking at you all creepy and love-sick like, think about a room with a moose as hard as you can."

"A… room with a moose?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"A room with a moose _eating walnuts_ ," George clarified. "I don't know why, but it freaks him the hell out. He breaks off the spell right away. Sometimes he even screams like a little girl."

Hermione complained, "Is there anyone normal in this school? Anyone at all?"

"I know," Harry agreed. He was studying his face in the mirror of a small compact, gingerly poking his cheek. "You know, these _mysterious_ bruises have barely started to fade, George."

"They must be mysterious _magic_ bruises, Harry. Just be glad they haven't broken."

"Should I use the powder stuff to cover them up? That's what it's for, right?"

"It's a couple of shades too dark, Harry. It'd just make you look silly," George declared, earning some inquiring looks. "What? It is."

"Uh, sure. Hey, Hermione? Want a little mirror thing?"

Hermione sniffed, "No thank you, Harry. I think I'm quite attractive enough as it is."

"She's right," George agreed. "She's almost as cute as our little sister."

The girl in question instantly went an impressive shade of nuclear-red.

"Harry? I'm starting to wonder if I should be walking within arm's reach of you," Neville declared as he carefully shuffled away.

"That's not very nice. After I shut your inkwell and put your notebook back and everything..."

Neville froze, then very slowly looked into his bag. The red notebook was, indeed, back inside. In fact, it was exactly where it had been in the first place. Staring at his friend, he took a few more steps away.

"Come on, Neville. Do you really think I'd steal from a friend?" Harry asked. He worked his tongue around his mouth for a moment, then blew a large bubble.

Neville sighed. "Harry, where did you get the gum?"

"You shared. Friends share," Harry answered.

"Normally you _ask_ someone to share, Harry. Can I have my gum back?"

Harry thought for a moment, then opened his mouth and disgorged an enormous wad of chewed gum into his hand. Holding out to Neville, he said, "Here."

The other boy started at the slimy, dripping mess. "No, I'm good. Just get me some more later."

"Okay. Seems like lots of people carry some. You'll just have to be happy with your chocolate for now. It's got toffee bits."

"Hey! _I_ like the toffee bits!" Hermione protested.

Harry looked at her curiously. "You don't like the caramel-filled ones?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then fished around in her bag and pulled out a chocolate bar. Examining it critically, she nodded. "It _does_ look nice and chewy."

"Oh, good. Are you sure you don't want the shiny thingy, too? It's shiny."

"Of course it's shiny, Harry. It's a mirror," Hermione sighed. "Even if I wanted it, it'd probably be a bad idea. I'm pretty sure that's Patravi's."

"Oh, okay. I'll just plant it on Lavender later, then. That should be fun," Harry decided.

"Wait, she gets chocolate and a mirror thing, but you just stole my gum?" Neville protested. "That's not very fair, Harry."

"Well, you can have the mirror thing if you want, Nev. Or you could have my belt," he offered, holding up a leather belt. "It's nice and sturdy. It might help keep your robes on."

Hermione stared at the belt, then yelled, "Hey! That's my belt!"  
George frowned, thought for a moment, then looked down. His trousers were, once again, pooled around his ankles. "No, that's _my_ belt. You know, I was wondering why all those witches were giving me sexy, smokey looks. I'm not hanging out or something, am I?" he joked.

The three turned to look at him, then quickly turned away. Hermione was once again a bright red hue.

"Yes," they answered together.

George gave his hips an experimental waggle. "You know, I _thought_ I was feeling a little less restricted than normal. It's a good thing it's cold out. Wouldn't want to get road rash. Hey, how's it going ladies?" he called, turning and earning a pair of shrieks from a pair of fifth-year Ravenclaws.

"George, please stop exposing yourself," Hermione sighed.

"Technically _you_ exposed me, but sure," he chuckled agreeable. He pulled his pants up and looked at his younger friends expectantly. "You know, this'd be easier if I had a…" he trailed off with a frown as he looked down and discovered that his pants had already acquired a belt. Looking back up, he stared at his companions.

Harry and Hermione stared back innocently.  
"Wow. You guys really grew up wrong, huh? I like- wait! This isn't my belt!" he protested.

The pair exchanged a look.

"Uh, how many belts did you borrow between here and the Great Hall?"

"Three when we went by those people coming in and two more from people headed to George's ride. How many did you steal from me?"

"Four. I'm kind of disappointed I missed one."

"If you hadn't, I'd be _very_ upset with you right now," she muttered. Something slammed into her shoulder, making her release a small "eep" of surprise. Turning, she stared at the heavily-armored owl she'd suddenly acquired. "Headwig! Have you been helping, sweetie?"  
Headwig affectionately nibbled on her ear before shooting toward Angel.

"Sexy Kitten had her keeping watch and weighing overweight witches. It's probably not good news if she's back," George explained. Louder, he yelled, "Kitten, what's up?"

"The Owlverlord's last patrol says the fires are almost out, Brother-1! Munchy estimates we have twelve minutes and seventeen seconds to get rid of the evidence!" she announced. She gave Headwig, who had taken up residence on the shoulder opposite Professor Nutmuncher, a rub on the head. "We should probably go bye-bye now. Come here, Pretty Flower."

Orchid obediently launched herself out of the tree. She fell towards Angel, opening up at the last second and weaving herself around the cat.

Angel giggled for a moment, then let out a squeak. "Hey! Watch the tickly leaves, Flower! You know that's a 'no touchy' spot!"

George sighed, "It was fun while it lasted. Oh well. At least we scored some coin. By the way, my pants are on the ground again, aren't they?"

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, handing back his belt.

"Don't worry about it. It's actually pretty funny. I- This isn't my belt. It isn't the one I was just wearing, either."

Hermione turned and fixed Harry with a nasty glare. The boy snorted and turned away, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Oh, but it goes really well with your watch," Nevil pointed out with a smile. "They've even got the same pattern and everything."

George looked down at his wrist and sighed. Hermione and Harry looked at each other curiously.

"The guy with the hair?"

"The guy with the hair," Harry confirmed. "Anyone want his really bad love poem to some 'Cho Chang' gir? Wait, isn't that the same one that keeps getting-"

"Oh! Harry! You have to hit her in the eye with that! You _have_ to! Please!" Hermione gave him a pleading look.

"He can't do that!" Neville declared. "It's _parchment_. It's way too light. We'll have to wrap it around a rock or something. A rock that _isn't_ on fire."

"You think she'll blame the poor bastard that wrote it?" George giggled. "No. Wait. Focus! Alright, folks, the show's over! Every disperse and go about your business so there's no evidence to get me in trouble!" he yelled.

There was a generally annoyed grumble from the students. They continued to mill around.

"Fine. Have it your way. A~nd, here we go!" he yelled. A flick of his wrist sent a trio of glass tubes into the air. "Someone wanna torch those incendiary-"

The vials exploded violently in mid air, turning into an enormous fireball. Blobs of burning napalm rained down around the courtyard. Students ran screaming in every direction. Some of the dropped their bags in their panic, while others were trying to extinguish their robes as they ran.

"-potions once they hit the evidence and spread out a little," George sighed.

Harry lowered his wand. "Sorry. My bad."

"You should probably start with the 'when' part in the future," Neville advised.

"You probably don't even have to do that, you know. There's no rule against firing students out of a siege engine, as long as no one gets hurt too bad. We're not allowed to launch them out of a giant slingshot, though," Hermione declared. "Which is quite strange and oddly specific…"

"Damn it," George muttered. He withdrew a notebook from his bag, opened it and scribbled something out.

"So… can I still burn the siege engine?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Go for it, kid," George said agreeably. "I'm a little curious about this 'charging' thing, anyway."

"Sweet. _Ast Ut Nihil._ "

* * *

"So, did anyone else know that soil could actually catch on fire?" Neville asked curiously, waving his drumstick across the table. "Because I was a little surprised by that."

"Just about anything will burn if it's hot enough. You just have to attain a self-sustaining reaction," Hermione informed them with a shrug. Holding a drumstick out of sight under the table she requested, "Harry, if you wouldn't mind?"

" _Ast Ut Nihil_ ," the boy muttered. A wave of heat washed across the meat. A delicious smell filled the air as the skin crisped up.

"The hell! Watch where you're aiming that!" Fred snapped. "It's bad enough you set the whole freaking courtyard on fire without me, but now you're trying to burn my nuts off?" He opened up, allowing Lady to feed him a bit of Turkey.

The elemental, for once, was sitting in her own seat. She was between Fred and King, feeding them both at the same time. A second set of watery appendages was working on slicing the meat into small chunks, supplying her feeding limbs with a steady stream of edibles.

Harry was pretty sure he'd never seen her quite so happy.

"I just wanna know how the hell you did that. The Incineration Spell is boom, flash, burn. There's no such thing as 'charging' it. That's not how it works. But if _he_ casts it right off it does next to nothing. But give him a couple of minutes…" George trailed off, shaking his head.

"A little over seven and a half, actually, and it seems to build up slower the longer he goes," Hermione clarified.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and it's not easy. Even just talking takes a lot of concentration."

"So what happens if you blow your load early?" Fred asked.

"It doesn't do anything. The magic just kind of fizzles. We tried a couple of times. If he gets distracted it just poofs," Neville replied. He quickly assembled a sandwich and levitated it under the table. "Harry?"

" _Ast Ut Nihil_."

"Damn it Harry!" Fred shouted.

Neville floated the toasted sandwich back onto his plate, admiring the way the melted cheese oozed out the side. "Wow. You _are_ pretty good at that."

"He can cast it the normal way it seems. He and Neville roasted something called a Cauldron Cake."

George patted Neville on the back. "Good job, Lord Nev."

"All sins against humanity shall be burned from the Earth," Neville declared.  
"It is written, 'At the hands of his Mighty Templar, all that blights the land shall be scorched from the mortal plane' and we shall obey the sacred words," Fred intoned.

"Fred, that's not written anywhere," Hermione sighed.

The twin shrugged. "It could be. Anyone got a quill?"

"I don't think so... " Neville responded. "Mine are missing, so Harry probably stole them all."

"What? I need quills!" Harry muttered. "Everyone needs quills."

Hermione glared at him. "Yes, Harry. _Everyone_ needs quills. That includes us."  
"But- but… I gave everyone chocolate! And George got a new watch! I even gave you a new set of panties!"

George glanced at his wrist. "Harry, why am I wearing two watches? Who the hell needs a second watch?"

Hermione just stared at him for a moment, then carefully searched her bag. After a moment, she withdrew a pair of soggy, wadded up underwear. "Harry, these are _my_ panties. I took them off Pansy. I probably should have waited until she dried off from her swim..."

"Yeah, but I gave them back. So, I gave you panties," Harry reasoned.

"Wait, you _took_ some chick's _panteis_ off!?" Fred demanded. "How does that work!?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's easy. I just kind of… uh… took them off. You know, you just kind of… do it?"

"Wow. That's pretty much the opposite of helpful," Fred declared.

"Uh, guys? You realize you handling someone's panties, right?" Neville asked.

"Of course we do, Neville. It's pretty hard to miss."

"No, I mean… you're handling some girl's panties. Her _dirty_ panties. The panties that she's been wearing _all_ day," Neville pointed out.

Hermione thought for a moment, then tossed the article of clothing on the table. Her and Harry looked down at their hands and said, "Eew," together.

Fred calmly leaned forward and picked up the underwear. Carefully holding them by one corner, he sniffed them. He instantly recoiled and tossed them away.

From somewhere behind him there was a gag and a disgusted cry.

"Why does everything we do hurt that girl?" Neville wondered.

"I dunno, but I almost feel bad for her on this one," Fred muttered. "That was definitely not a set of 'one day' underwear."

Both Harry and Hermione stared down at their hands again.

"Harry? I was just holding my turkey with these hands," Hermione squeaked.

Harry shuddered. "I- I think it's okay. We were holding it by the bottom, right?" he asked hopefully. "I don't suppose anyone had some hand sanitizer? A strong acid would work too…"

Hermione held her hands in the air. "Just torch them, Harry. Get all the bad things off. You can take some skin if you need to."

"Let's not be hasty!" George ordered, grabbing Harry's raised wand. "No burning us, Harry. That's a very bad wizard! Bad!" He gave the boy a solid flick on the forehead.

"It's- It's better that way... " Hermione insisted.

" _Puritatem_ ," Fred muttered. The word sent a strange tingling, prickling sensation across her hands. "There you go. All clean. You want a piece, Harry? I'd be happy to help if you ask all sexy-like."

"Do you want to keep your wand, Fred?"

Fred smiled. "Oh, Harry. I know you're not the sort to steal a guy's wand. Not a friend's, anyway."

Harry thought for a moment. "No, I guess you're right. Oh, but I _am_ the type of person that might tell the girls you're holding out on them," he announced, holding up a pair of Chocolate Frogs.

The twins went pale.

"Fred. We need to stop carrying things. We need to stop carrying all the things," George stated.

The strange tingling swept across Harry's hands. He lowered the frogs, getting a relieved sigh from the twins.

"So, could we get those back now?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Nope."

"No!?"

"Nah. I'll give them to the girls later. It'll make them happy," he announced with a bright smile.

The gave him a horrified look. "Harry, those are our 'get out of jail free' cards. You've got to give them back. Seriously."

"And while you're at it, give me back my quills," Hermione demanded.

"I can't really do that. Not unless we run into that fifth-year again. Your new quills are nicer, anyway."

Hermione dug through her bag and pulled out a wooden case. Opening it and staring down, she made an impressed noise. "Ooh, those are nicer."

"Hey, I just realized something. How come I don't get a watch?" Fred asked.

"Uh… sorry. I already gave them all to George."

"Six? Seriously, six? What the hell am I supposed to do with six watches, Harry?" George demanded, looking down at he watch-covered forearm. "And this one definitely came from a witch."

"Oh, that's nice too. Can I have that, George?" Hermione asked.

"Sure. It's not really my style, and having all these on makes it hard to bend my arm," George chuckled. "Seriously? Six watches?"  
"I had another one, but I put it on some guy's ankle. Sorry George," Harry apologized.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I don't need another watch, Harry,"

Fred hopefully asked, "Could I have one, brother?"

"What? No These are _my_ watches. Harry gave them to me, and it would be rude to let someone else have them."

"But you gave one to Lady Hermness!"

"Do you question my right to shower Lord Nev's High Priestess with jewelry and other shiny things?"

Fred gasped in horror. "Forgive me! Of course the High Priestess must be favored with mad bling."

"You guys are taking this way too far with the 'Lord Nev' thing, you know..." Neville complained.

"Aw, c'mon Lord Nev! Don't leave your true believers hanging!" Fred complained.

Neville sighed. "C'mon, Hermione. Back me up here… uh…" he trailed off and frowned at the witch.

Hermione was sitting next to him, arm raised so she could admire her new watch by the light of the setting sun. "Ooh, I think I like this…" she whispered as she watched the sunlight dance across the silver band. "So… high priestesses get a lot of stuff like this?"

"Oh, Merlin no…"

"Does it matter? You can just pick out what you like and take it, right?" George asked.

Hermione gave him a confused look. "Huh?"

"Well, I mean, if you see someone wearing something you like, you can just grab it. Bam, new bracelet."

"Don't be silly, George. I'm no pickpocket."

"Uh… you stole my belt."

Hermione stared at him for a second, then blushed and looked away. She sheepishly held out a belt. "Sorry about that. I didn't think you'd notice until you stood up."  
"Okay. One: I'm not sitting next to you anymore," George declared, struggling to get his belt back on without standing up. "Two: I was talking about earlier, not right now. And three: this isn't my belt."

Harry wordlessly handed over a belt.

"You know what? I just got this new one. Just keep it. My point was that if you can steal a belt, a bracelet or two should be easy."

"George, belts are _clothes_ ," Hermione sighed. "A bracelet is _jewelery_. They're totally different."

"Yeah, you don't see me going around stealing panties. Well, not unless you count the ones Hermione had in her bag."

"Would you stop stealing those!? I need them!" Hermione huffed.

"It's not like you're gonna wear someone else's underwear. What could you possibly need them for?"

"Uh… things? Does it matter? They're _mine_. I stole them."

"By that logic wouldn't they be mine now? I stole them from you…"

"Hey, uh, I've got a question. This doesn't really concern me, considering I don't have a watch or anything, but how are you planning on wearing a bunch of stolen jewelry?"

The table went silent as they all stared at him.

"What? Don't you think the former owners are gonna find it weird that you're wearing a watch exactly like the one they lost?" Fred pointed out. "It's a big castle, but it's not _that_ big, especially given the rate you seem to be repossessing things at."

Hermione pouted and stared down at her watch. "You mean… I can't wear it?"

Fred began to open his mouth, but was interrupted by a heavy sigh. There was a wooden creak of relief as King's weight shifted off his chair. "As stimulating as discussing our criminal activities is, I find myself wanting to indulge in something slightly more legal. If anyone needs me, I will be in our room, studying. Come along Lady."

There was a loud splash as most of Lady's body collapsed to the floor. Her arm, in particular, landed in Fred's lap and soaked him. A diminutive water elemental - small enough to hold in one hand - hopped up King's arm and took a seat on his shoulder. The pair quickly left the hall.

"Man, he's way too serious sometimes," Fred complained. "It's just a little grand larceny."

George shrugged. "You gotta admit, he's kind of getting dragged into this. You know he's pretty off when he leaves a book lying on the table," he sighed. Leaning over, he grabbed the open time. "Honestly, the guy treats these things like they're made of gold. If he...huh…"

"What's up?" Fred asked.

George laid a finger on the page King's book was open to. "'The Anonymity Charm prevents others from seeing the identifying characteristics of an object unless they can see it when the charm is cast or the owner describes it to them in detail. For example, a 'silver pendant with a distinctive shape and the owner's initials etched in the back' would simply be seen as 'a silver pendant' when someone views it."

"So, basically, it means I can wear my watch?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Pretty much," George agreed.

"Well now. Ain't that a helluva coincidence," Fred observed. "Kinda strange, that…"

"I think it's a little stranger that you guys had an envelope with my name on it," Harry state, holding the offending piece of mail up.

"Okay. Seriously, I'm not sitting near _either_ of you anymore. And… uh..." George paused. "Harry, I'm sitting between you and Lady Hermness…"

"Yeah. Good job,.I guess?"

"No, I mean… how the hell did you put those quills in her bag?" George demanded.

"With my hands, George," Harry replied. "It'd be pretty hard to do it with my feet."

Fred nodded sagely. "The kid's got a point. Never heard of someone stealing stuff with their feet before."

"Shut up, Fred. Harry, you would have had to lean across my lap to get to Lady Hermness' bag. For that matter, how the hell did you steal quills from my brother and Lord Nev? There's a table between you. How did you even know I had that letter, or the Chocolate Frogs? I think I'd notice if you were feeling around in my robes," George declared.

"You'd notice if there was an eleven-year-old in your robes? You know that from experience?" Fred snickered.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't you ask Hermione how she stole someone's panties?"

George turned towards Hermione with an expectant look, but received a shrug in response.

"I don't know. You just kind of reach out and take them. Like I said, it's easy once you figure it out."

"It's easy?" Fred asked skeptically. "It's easy to steal a witches panties out from under her skirt and robe? While she's walking down the hall?"  
"Uh… Yeah? Should it not be?" she answered hesitantly.

"I really feel like we shouldn't have to answer that," George muttered.

Fred grinned. "Screw that! You've _got_ to to teach me how to do that!"

"How? I'm not even sure _I_ know how I'm doing it, and even I did I probably wouldn't show you how. God knows what you do with it…"

Fred considered that for a moment. "Oh, yeah. You're totally right," he agreed cheerfully. "That is _definitely_ something I shouldn't be able to do. I'd probably, like, make a robe out of stolen panties or something."

"That's exactly what you were planning to do, isn't it brother?"

"...no."

"Right. Anyway, Headwig brought that to us a while before lunch. I guess she decided leaving it with us was better than waking you up."

Hermione looked down at the tiny, armored owl, who was standing on the table and stealing bits of turkey off her plate. She happily rubbed the bird on the helmet. "Aww, you're such a smart girl, aren't you Headwig?"

George decided not to mention the small feathers that had been plastered to the owl's armor by a rather large amount of blood. Cleaning her up had taken a while, and left the twins wondering where the delicate etchings her armor now sported had come from.

"Oh. Hagrid's asked us to come to tea tomorrow instead of today. I guess everything's getting pushed back a day because of all the mysterious disasters that happened today," Harry announced. "Well that's pretty convenient, considering the mysterious disasters made me forget all about that."

"Those darn mysterious disasters. It'd be nice if we didn't have to worry about things like that," Neville muttered, really obviously staring across the table at Harry and Hermione. "Really, _really_ nice."

"Yeah, and it'd be nice if I had a unicorn," Hermione muttered. She frowned as she held another drumstick under the table for Harry to covertly crisp. "Wait. Unicorns are a real thing now, aren't they?"

"Uh, yeah. And they've been around for a while, actually," George responded.

"Oh. Well, I was basically trying to say that me and Harry are probably going to set a lot more things on fire. Fire is pretty," Hermione announced.

"And we're probably going to help you," George said with a nod.

"Uh, probably?" Fred asked. "If it's only a 'probably' why did you tell me to start brewing a new vat of Firehole Jelly? Oh, are we finally gonna nail that damn toilet?"

George rolled his eyes. "Fred, of course we're going to help them set things on fire. I was trying to make it sound like there was a possibility of us acting like responsible people."

His brother chuckled. "Oh yeah. Because you're definitely gonna convince someone that's a real thing…"

Neville slammed his face into the table with a groan, not even caring that he'd just buried his nose in a pile of mashed potatoes. "Why did King have to leave…"

* * *

A/N:

I've received an unfortunate injury to my dominant hand. While I can still type with just my off hand, this will obviously result in slower updates until I'm back up to par. Luckily, I've actually finished the next three chapters. I've been a lot better about writing new material than prepping stuff to be posted.

My general process is to write a chapter in a rough sort of barebones way, rewrite it and flesh it out, then read it twice to catch as many errors as I can. The next three chapters have been stalled on the third step for a bit, but I'll get to them eventually.

So, about this chapter. I honestly don't know what to say. I didn't even originally plan for Harry and Hermione to have klepto tendencies, and most of this chapter is built around that. I have no idea how the hell any of this happened.

I did try to make it clear that Harry isn't some sort of uber-powerful prodigy child. In this world, very few things are free. In the case of Harry's mutant Incineration spell, the cost is sitting still and doing fuck-all for several minute before it's really useful. Their small group is abnormally mature(ish) and intelligent for their ages, but they're not gods.

(Yet…. Mwahahahaha!(Just kidding. No gods here.(I think…)))

In the next chapter, a well-dressed dog makes tea. Some other shit happens too, but who cares about that. It's a _dog_ making _tea_. That's legit.

Two final things:

First, we'll go with the typical writer's plea for reviews. It's cliche, but whatever. Seriously, I love hearing how you feel about my writing. I'm not going to say it encourages me to keep going or any of that crap, because I honestly just write because I like to. Plus, I think that kind of thing is freaking pathetic. I mean, come on. But even though I don't need you to validate my existence, I still really enjoy it when you do. It gives me a nasty case of the feelings when someone says I made them laugh.

Second, please check out the first chapter of my original story on Fictionpress. If you're enjoying the humor in this, you'll probably get a kick out of Not Quite Heroes. It's a tad more serious than Something Familiar, but you'd probably need a microscope to spot the difference. It was inspired by the multitude of 'genius teen goes to superhuman high' anime series. It always annoys me that those schools are so orderly despite having a bunch of hormonal teens that can blow things up with their minds around. Also, the major characters aren't really the hero type

Anyway, since it's my first original work, I'd love it if you could take the time to check it out: s/3301496/1/Not-Quite-Heroes


	17. Udderly Horrific

Something Familiar

Chapter 17: "Udderly Horrific"  
AKA: "You Should Owl Be Afraid"

* * *

Because the only furniture left in the common room was a hardened pool of metal, most of the Gryffindors ended up strewn about the various dorm rooms. Since Seamus, Dean and Ron - who had apparently become friends after Ron was thoroughly rebuffed - had claimed Harry and Neville's room, the group ended up in the twins'.

King and Lady were already there when they arrived. King was sitting quietly at his desk, reading a novel. Lady, using her entire lower body as a suction cup, was amusing herself by hanging from the ceiling and swinging randomly back and forth like a damaged metronome. Every now and then she'd flick his hair or brush a finger along his shoulder, prompting him to swat at her. It was a pointless and futile gesture more than anything. Even if he did catch her, she's simply allow her body to flow around his hand.

Harry was a bit surprised to see a high wall of sandbags blocking off one corner. Dozens of things that looked suspiciously like sharpened steel spikes protruded from between the bags. There were lengths of razor-edged chains were were strung haphazardly between them.

"Lee," George explained with a shrug. "He's probably in one of the other third-year boys' rooms. He hangs out with them and really only comes here to sleep."

If King's attempts to read hadn't been doomed before, the twins' arrival heralded the end. He was eventually roped into teaching their muggle-born friends how to play Exploding Snap. After a while they decided it was something of a pointless pursuit. There didn't seem to be much point in continuing after Harry's ninth straight win.

For some reason they didn't quite buy it when a third of the deck fell out of Fred's sleeve.

The experience taught him two valuable lessons. The first was the importance of losing enough to allay suspicion. The second was that cramming all the 'snap' and 'blast' cards into the same person's robes wasn't a good idea.

Fortunately, Fred woke up quite quickly when Lady knee dropped him into oblivion. Unfortunately, she then proceeded to yank him up by the hair. Giving him a good shake, she shoved his face up to her chest and used her free hand to point at the particles of dirt floating there. The crud gathered into a ball and shot up her throat. The elemental proceeded to swish them around her mouth for a moment before spitting the ball of sludge into Fred's face.

It ended up being pretty obvious that putting _any_ game with movable pieces within arm's reach of Harry didn't work out so well. Even when he wasn't actively trying to cheat, he had a tendency to pilfer the bits and bobs without really thinking about it. It started to become a real problem when pieces from the wrong game began appearing on the right board.

Neville spent the rest of the night wishing he hadn't suggested tying the other wizard's arms behind his back.

They eventually settled on a game that bore a passing resemblance to muggle marbles, played with breakable crystal spheres that shocked your opponents when you shattered their pieces. The only real problem they had - other than the fact that Hermione and Harry were really starting to wonder if wizards were inherently masochistic - was that they occasionally ran out of marbles prematurely. When they did, they at least knew where to find them.

Neville woke up the next day with two thoughts in his mind. The first thought was that the night before was probably the best of his life so far. The second was that he'd managed to keep Harry and Hermione from setting anything on fire for a full twelve hours. Not only did it strike him as worrying that he took pride in that, but it also occurred to him that it probably didn't count because they'd been asleep for eight of it.

There was also the very real possibility that Hermione's room was currently on fire. Neville couldn't help but worry the odds of that were higher than they should be. He tried rather hard to tell himself he wasn't concerned, but trying to find another excuse for dressing so fast his left sneaker ended up on his right foot and his right sneaker appeared in his robe pocket was difficult.

He made a mental note to remove it before Harry stole it. Or maybe before Hermione stole it. To be honest, he didn't quite know whether an unworn shoe counted as a thing or clothing. Did it fall under pickpocketing, or stealth-stripping? The internal debate distracted him long enough for him to reach what was left of the common room.

Upon reaching it, he discovered that Hermione was about to start a fire.

Sort of.

Neville realized, belatedly, that he hadn't woken up in a prison of plants at about the same time he realized the common room had been turned into a small tropical forest. The flagstone floor and pool of hardened metal had vanished beneath a carpet of thick moss and grasslike plants. It was a little squishy and actually quite pleasant to walk on. Vines had completely overwhelmed the walls, coating them as they ran up and across the ceiling, forming a leafy, flower-covered canopy. Neville counted at least a dozen different types of blooms up there.

The room had also acquired a new set of furniture. Chairs made of branches with thick moss cushions, tables made from broad stumps, hammocks and swings of woven vine and even a couple thrones formed from enormous blossoms.

Angel was "sitting" downside up in one of the thrones, legs thrown up across the back and head hanging down toward the ground. Her long hair trailed across the floor like a patch of red moss. The cat barely seemed to notice the man-eating plant sitting cross legged on her chest. Likewise, Orchid was paying no attention to the pair of foxes on her head. The twins were so tangled up in their attempt to share the scarce real estate that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. It seemed this wasn't enough to deter Headwig from perching on them, nor a micro-sized Lady from sitting on the owl's head.

It was like someone was running a bizarre experiment to see how many nonhuman entities they could fit in one chair.

They were all watching Hermione, who was sitting on the throne across from them, with a great deal of interest.

The poor girl was blushing such an intense shade of red that Neville was pretty sure she was about two degrees away from spontaneously combusting. As he entered the the room she turned to give him an uncertain, wide-eyed look.

"Please don't do that. This is hard to do if you keep moving," Harry scolded her as he ran the brush through her hair again.

Neville walked around them and dropped onto the stump next to Familiar Tower. "So… uh… how did this happen?" Neville asked curiously.

"Hermione wanted me to braid her hair."

"No I didn't…" the girl in question squeaked.

Harry paused mid-brush and frowned down at her. "Yes you did. That was what you bet for. If you didn't want me to do it, why would you make that your favor?"

"But you won!"

"Technically I didn't, since they weren't actually using a catapult catapult," Harry pointed out. "And why does that even matter? It's not like I mind doing it, though it'd be a lot easier if you didn't move around so much. I can't braid it if it's all poofy and stuff."

"You should really take better care of your hair, Hermington," Angel scolded. "You'd be much prettier."

"You walk around with your hair dragging on the ground, Angel. It's got to be getting dirty, and even the stuff that isn't is all messy and tangled," Hermione retorted softly.

"It's the sexy-wild look," the cat declared. She grabbed her ribbon and used it to haul her hair off the ground. She shook her tresses, making her bell produce a slight jingle. "It works for me. I'm a b~ad kitty!" she announced with a giggle.

"She's right, you know," Fred's voice came from just above Neville, causing the boy to fall off his stump stool. Laying on the ground, he stared up at the redhead. Fred grinned back, swinging slightly as he used his legs to hang from a vine. "That is seriously hot."

"You know, I kind of like the tower like this. You think our academic dictator'll let us keep it?" George asked. He was sitting on the same vine Fred was hanging from, his feet softly thumping against his brother's chest. "Because this is seriously badass."

Neville examined the other Gryffindors scattered around the room. Several were playing a game of Exploding Snap on a large stump-table. A few witches were wandering around the room, making various impressed noises as the examined the various flowers. Quite a few of their housemates were up in the canopy, sitting or playing among the vines. A least one witch was passed out in a hammock with a large golden retriever serving as a blanket.

"Uh, maybe? Everyone seems to like it, so is there really isn't a reason not to," Neville theorized.

"Kinda hypocritical, that. They don't like you-" George pointed out as he flopped backwards. Fred swung up at the same time, efficiently trading places with his brother. Frowning down from his new perch, Fred finished, "-but they're more than happy to use something Flower made."

"That's not really weird, is it? I mean, people are always happy to take advantage of someone," Harry muttered. As focused as he was on Hermione's hair, he missed the dark looks that momentarily crossed the twins' faces.

"I, for one, certainly find it quite acceptable," King announced as he dropped onto a stump. He gave the hunk of wood an affectionate smack, producing a sharp crack akin to a gunshot. "It is rather nice to have a significant amount of confidence that my seat will support me."

"Even King's gonna have a hard time crushing a big ol' hunk of ironwood," Fred declared. "Flower's downright useful, that's for sure."

"Did you know she can make all kinds of plants? Because she can, and I'm talking _all_ kinds of them. Kitten says she can't make really magic stuff without getting all drained and hungry, but she's like a bottomless potion ingredient factory," George said happily. "And she even likes doing it! Makes her feel all useful."

Fred sighed, "I just wish we could listen to her without rainbowing. Or at least stand near her when she talks and not blow chunks. That'd be nice too."

"I think seven or eight feet is the smallest she can make the pollen go," Harry said helpfully. "It's probably good to stay a little further if you can't hear her right. Does anyone know how to braid hair? Because I just realized I don't…"

"Oh! Oh! I know!" Angel announced, raising her hand. "Pick me, My Boy! Pick me!"

"Uh, sure."

"Flo~wer~, I need a hands!"

The alura une split apart, instantly merging with Angel's outfit. There was a quick flurry of movement as Familiar Tower collapsed and Angel flipped to her feet. At the end of it, she somehow had a fox on either shoulder and an owl on her head. Lady hadn't moved at all and was still sitting atop the Owlverlord, possibly unaware the shift had happened.

Angel held up her hands and watched critically as thin vines wove up from her top and around her arms. The creepers laced around her fingers and carefully ran up the back of her nails. A hard, wooden shell formed around the deadly digits, completely sealing away their lethal edges.

"Wow. That' really neat," Neville declared.

Angel nodded enthusiastically. "Flower's a good flower. She can help me play with the other fuzzies! Parts of her that aren't parts of her are clumsy and get cut, but she's re~ally good at it if I'm wearing her!"

"Is that where you guys've been going off to?" Harry asked curiously. "Figuring out how to do that?"

"I'm sorry, My Boy. I can't tell you. It's fuzzies things," Angel said sadly.

"Familiars have some sort of weird honor code, Harrynose, especially in Hogwarts," George informed him. "They don't get in each other's way without a good reason and they generally help each other out unless they can't. They don't get a wizard involved in something unless it involves a wizard and they don't really say much about what they do when they're off together."

"You could always order her to answer, but I wouldn't. It's kind of a dick move, and considering _I'm_ saying that…" Fred added.

"Okay, My Boy. Look-look. This is how you make hair pretty really easy," Angel declared as she move around behind Hermione. "Stay still, Mi'oh."

Hermione, still blushing bright red, squeaked, "Mi'oh?"

Angel nodded as she started deftly braiding the girl's hair from just above her forehead. "Hermione isn't nice enough for Hermione. You get Mi'oh if you only keep the nice parts in the middle. In Klejasilii it means… well, there isn't really a say it like, really right, but it's something like 'blessed hunter' if you make it easy to say. You call someone that if they're smart, determined and strong. Your mom and dad named you real good, even if they didn't meant to!"

Hermione blushed even brighter. Neville was pretty sure her flower-throne would start to smolder at any moment.

"Hey, that's pretty good. Mio means 'cherry blossom' in Japanese. They're real nice looking, so it fits," Fred added, drawing several confused looks. "What?"

"Why do you even know that, Fred? Isn't that kinda a weird thing to know?" Neville queried.

"Why would she even know _that_?" George asked, pointing towards Angel. Having finished, she was now undoing Hermione's braid. "That's kinda a weird thing for a _cat_ to know, isn't it?"

Angel giggled. "Cats like to be pretty, silly. I've done it for me lotsa times."

Most of the group gave her long, messy mane of hair a speculative look.  
"That… must be quite the undertaking," King stated.

"It wasn't when I did it," Angel replied. "I had short hair then, but it made me kinda unhappy. I looked a lot like someone I don't like very much."

"I can see that," Fred said. "I've got someone I don't like looking like, too. I-"

The redhead suddenly shouted in surprise as he "mysteriously" lost his grip on their vine. The sound he made when he slammed face-first into the ironwood stump serving as their table was not pleasant at all.

Harry sighed and stopped braiding long enough to toss a small phial at Neville. Nodding in understanding, the other boy snapped the top off and poured it into the insensate redhead's mouth.

"Not a bad idea. May as well get a jump on it before my brother starts threatening to send monkeys to cut us. Only problem is that that wasn't an anti-concussion potion. For future reference, they're in my top _right_ robe pocket, Harry," George divulged.

"Oh. Oops. My bad," Harry muttered. "So, uh, potion roulette then?"

"Potion roulette," George confirmed. "So… anyone wanna place a bet?"

"Can we give him an actually anti-concussion potion? And we shouldn't just leave himi lying on the table."

"Neville's right. We can't play cards if he's on the table."

"We are most certainly _not_ playing cards. Not until you can do so without pilfering half the deck," King scolded. "And it would be nice if you could manage to play a boardgame without substituting the wrong pieces."

"I said I was sorry…"

"Ah, lay off King. It was pretty funny. At one point I wasn't even sure what game we were supposed to be playing," George chuckled. "We should figure out a way to play with _all_ the pieces. Maybe it would be harder for Harry to cheat if there was more bits involved. How many of those pieces did you end up keeping?"

"I've got a whole pocket full. Everyone in Ravenclaw is gonna get a little house," Harry proudly declared. "I also have all the 'fun' cards from four Exploding Snap decks."

"Uh, Harry? We don't even _have_ four Exploding Snap decks," Neville pointed out.

George snorted. "Yeah, because that matters."

"So who exactly were you planning to blow up?" George asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Because I've got a few suggestions if you're looking for them."

"Cucumbers!" Fred shouted.

"Fred, why would we blow up cucumbers?" George sighed. He snapped open a phial and poured it out, allowing a small stream of potion to drain down into his brother's mouth. "I mean, what've cucumbers ever done to us?"

"I was just gonna put the 'splodey cards on anyone who wasn't carrying anything good," Harry admitted. "I'm hoping they'll figure it out and start carrying more valuables and shiny things."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, Harry," Neville sighed.

"I, for one, would most likely carry more watches if it meant I was I was in no danger of arbitrarily detonating," King disagreed.

Harry shrugged. "One way to find out, I guess. There. I'm done," he announced, taking a step back.

Hermione was suddenly subjected to a great deal of scrutiny.

"Y'know, your hair's a little longer when it doesn't look like a big bush. Who's idea was the cherry blossom?"

"We needed something to tie the end with, Harry shrugged. "Maybe we should use more next time. It looks really nice."

"Oh, beautiful spirit, step into my arms," Fred cried. His head flopped off the table, leaving him staring at Hermione from a foot away. "Let us go together to the land of cotton candy and fluffy dreams! I shall brush powdered sugar across your cheeks. I shall love you and hug you and call you George!"

"Yeah, that's kind of creepy," George muttered. "Harry? You mind sharing your bunk for a while? I'm not sure I wanna sleep in mine…"

"It would appear that he is still suffering from his rapid descent. Is it possible that the potion was ineffective?" King asked.

George thought for a moment, then patted himself down. "No, but it _is_ possible that wasn't an anti-concussion potion. Sorry, looks like it's the _bottom_ right, Harry."

"Are you sure? Because I really don't wanna have to steal every phial you're carrying…"

"Yeah, I'm sure this time. Thanks for the mints, by the way." George popped a small, crystalline ball into his mouth, chewed for a moment and then blew out a small burst of snow. "Fred was right, though. That is pretty cute."

Hermione somehow blushed an even deeper shade of red. At this point she was in serious danger of leaving the visible spectrum. "...thank you? Uh… I don't suppose anyone has a mirror…"

Harry glanced around the common room. After ensuring everyone was too busy to pay attention he whispered hoarsely, "Hey, buddy. I hear you're lookin' for a… mirror," and opened his robes. Over a dozen mirrors were hanging from one side of the interior.

"Harry. Pal. I think this is becoming a problem," George said slowly. "I mean, you can't just keep doing that."

Harry gave his older friend a nervous look. "Uh… is it? I'm… really sorry. I'll try to stop…"

"Good, because all those mirrors are taking up valuable space. I mean, who wants a mirror? You could have, like, bracelets or watches or food or used panties or quills or money in there," George scolded him. "Save room for the good stuff. No one wants a mirror."

" _I_ want a mirror," Hermione disagreed. She took a delicate hand mirror and examined it. The wood frame had been carved into branches and leaves, parts of it stretching out over the glass. It looked very much like the mirror was being overrun by vegetation. "I... don't suppose I can have this…" she muttered hopefully.

Harry shrugged. "Sure. I guess I have a mirror surplus, so I'd actually be kind of helpful. One less mirror to unsteal. Anyway, you guys are always welcome to anything that's mine that isn't mine."

The witch raised the mirror to examine herself, her eyes widening slightly at what she saw. Her first thought was that it was quite remarkable how much of a difference something as simple as neat hair could make. The second thought was that she actually looked kind of… good.

And it was at that exact moment that Fred gained two hundred kilograms. The wizard literally exploded outwards, his lard-propelled flesh packing enough force that it knocked Neville - who had unfortunately been leaning forward - straight out of his seat. Angel's occupants quickly abandoned ship, inadvertently sending her pitching forward as they leapt off. The cat only had enough time to let out a surprised shriek before Fred overflowed the table and buried her beneath a tidal wave of fat. King sat and watched impassively through the whole thing, Fred's blubbery flesh bulging around the immovable object.

"Oh, it was _that_ one," George declared happily. "The Counter-Diet Potion. Two hundred kilograms in two-tenths of a second. That's a good one."

Angel, buried under a mountain of twin flesh, seemed to disagree. Her legs were kicking at the air frantically, and muffled shrieks could be heard from beneath the oppressive organic mountain. King sighed and leaned over, effortlessly lifting the fatty fold off the struggling familiar. Angel sat up with a relieved gasp and quickly scrambled away to take cover behind her chair.

George chuckled. "Well, look at it this way. The other one can't be-"

There was a low rumble, a deep base that resonated in their chests. Fred's enormous body began vibrating, sending waves and ripples across his flesh. The rumble began to increase in volume and power. In just a few moments it went from a low hum to the sound of a freight train going by. Fred's body was now shaking hard enough that the could feel it through the floor.

George went pale.

"Oh no…"

* * *

McGonagall stared at Hermione.

Hermione stared at McGonagall.

The deputy headmistress sighed, then immediately regretted it. Having just emptied her lungs, she had no choice but to inhale. She tried very hard not to let the air run across her tongue.

"Ms. Granger, _what_ is that smell?" she demanded.

"What smell, professor?" Hermione asked innocently. It probably would have been more believable if her complexion wasn't slightly greenish.

"The _smell_ Ms. Granger. The smell here, with us, in my office. The smell that arrived when you walked through the door. The smell like a thousand hellbound souls slowly rotting as they drowned in a pool of liquid misery. _That_ smell," McGonagall clarified. She was beginning to wish she'd just changed forms and followed Ash as he fled into the walls.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," Hermione insisted. "But I'm certain that any event resulting in the smell you described and my needing to change into clean robes would be immediately repressed, never to be spoken of again."

"I see," McGonagall muttered. "Need I even ask who was involved in this event that didn't happen?"

Hermione gave her a confused look. "I'm quite certain no one was involved. How could anyone be involved with something that didn't happen?"

"If that is how you wish to deal with it, very well. But please remember that there is no need for you to tolerate activities that make your life more difficult. It is important to know where to draw the line," McGonagall advised. She gagged slightly and immediately cast her seventh air-freshening charm.

Not that they were doing much good. She was pretty sure she could see flecks of varnish peeling off her desk and falling to the floor.

"You might just want to burn your office down, Professor," Hermione suggested.

"I've actually been considering that for several days," McGonagall responded without thinking. "But I'm quite sure it will be more amusing to foist it off on Trelawney."

The pair stared at each other across the desk.

"I did _not_ just say that. Understood?"

Hermione tilted her head and looked at the professor curiously. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but did you say something? I'm afraid I wasn't listening."

"Good girl. Now, I have two questions for you. The first is simply to sate my curiosity. When, how and why did you outfit your small owl with heavy armor?"

"I didn't, ma'am. I suppose she must have found it herself."

"Your owl acquired and donned platemail herself…?" McGonagall asked skeptically.

Hermione plucked the owl off her head and set it on the desk. Giving it a thoughtful look she answered, "Well, I'm quite certain that I neither bought that armor, nor did I put it on her. It stands to reason that she must have somehow found it herself, right?"

Professor McGonagall examined her student carefully. Something about the statement seemed a little off, but it rang true nonetheless. As strange as it was, she'd definitely heard of - and even personally seen - things stranger than an abnormally small owl equipping itself with ornate plate armor.

Still…

"Why on Earth would your owl feel the need to wear armor?"

"To protect herself, of course. She is a sweet little owl, after all. There's a lot of things that would eat a sweet little owl. Like hawks, or bigger owls, or huge spiders, or meerkats or even… _cougars_ …" Hermione declared, ending in a hoarse whisper. One of her hands slowly slipped into her robes.

"Cougars, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh, don't worry, Professor. I know you and Ash are good cougars. _I know it_ … You _are_ good cougars, right?" she asked, fixing McGonagall with an intense, wide-eyed stare. Her hand slipped a little further into her robes.

For a moment, McGonagall could swear she heard the sound of metal scraping on metal.

"Of course we're good cougars, Ms. Granger," McGonagall soothed. "Neither Ash nor I would harm you, or any other wizard, except to defend ourselves or ours."

Hermione smiled at her happily. "I know that, of course," she declared. There was another faint scrape as she extracted her hand from within her clothing. "If Harry's smart enough to realize not all plants are going to eat him, I'm certainly smart enough to do the same."

"Oh dear. I was a bit worried Mr. Longbottom's familiar would cause some problems…." McGonagall sighed.

"Oh no, ma'am. He's quite fond of Orchid. It's all the other plants."

McGonagall gave her a puzzled look. "What other plants?"

"All the other plants _All_ of them. We've discovered that he's fine with grass and such, but everything larger than a daisy is highly suspect in his eyes."

There was a deep sigh. "Wonderful. Of all people… Well, that is neither here nor there. The focus of this meeting is upon you and your familiar, which brings me to my second question: where is your familiar?"

"I'm not sure, professor. I haven't seen him for several days," Hermione answered.

McGonagall studied her carefully, as if trying to decide whether or not the girl was yanking her chain.

"Several days? That is exceedingly odd, Ms. Granger. Being separated for more than a day or two generally becomes unpleasant for both parties quite quickly. Do you feel at all odd? Lethargy? Hysteria? Anxiety?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, not at all. I'm worried Crookshanks may have gotten lost or hurt, of course, but that's about it."

"With your permission, I would like to use a spell that will trace your Bond and give us an idea where your familiar is. You do, of course, have the right to refuse, but I know of no other way to easily locate him."

"On no! By all means…"

McGonagall traced an extremely complex pattern in the air, the tapped Hermione's forehead. She stared at the girl for several seconds, then frowned. He eyes flicked down towards the desk for a brief moment. She repeated the spell a second time, then sighed and settled back into her seat.

"Ms. Granger, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that it appears I will be unable to locate Crookshanks for you," McGonagall said with a fair amount of regret.

"So… we can't find out what happened to him?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I'm afraid not," McGonagall confirmed. "As regrettable as that is, the good news is quite good. According to the tracing spell, your familiar is currently standing on my desk."

Hermione looked down at Headwig with a confused look on her face. The armored avian looked back up and chirped happily.

"But… I summoned Crookshanks. How could Headwig be my familiar?" she protested.

"The Summoning Ritual is an ancient and powerful magic, but it is still susceptible to error. There have been rare occasions in the past when a familiar arrives somewhere other than the Summoning Chamber. In those instances, they will seek out their masters and join them as quickly as possible."

"Headwig did show up the next day. And she _did_ attach herself to me right away," Hermione mused.

"Cheshire are rare, but their penchant for mischief and mayhem is quite well known. It is likely that this one seized what it perceived as an opportunity. A miscast summoning using that book in particular would be something like an invitation to cause chaos, I suppose," McGonagall theorized.

Hermione reached out and rubbed Headwig's helmet, extracting a happy coo. "I'm quite happy to have such a lovely little thing for a familiar, but doesn't that seem unlikely?"

"It's certainly more believable than the alternative," McGonagall stated.

Lifting Headwig and setting her in her upturned hand Hermione asked, "What alternative?"

"Assuming your owl was not originally your familiar, there is only one way I know of that she could have bound herself to you. In order to hijack a Bond, the familiar-to-be must slaughter the original familiar and consume the corpse during the first week following the Summoning."

Both witches stared at the tiny owl resting in Hermione's palm. Headwig stared back with wide, innocent eyes. She twisted slightly, maneuvering her body so the light shone off her armor as brightly and prettily as possible. The black armor glistened, its fine etchings shining like pure silver.

"Yeah, that doesn't seem likely…" Hermione decided.

"My thoughts exactly. Now then, let us begin your registration."

* * *

"Thank God I finally got most of that smell off. Remind me to thank the twins for providing me with another traumatic memory. It was kind of convenient, because I woke up this morning thinking I needed a little more emotional scarring," Hermione declared. "Oh, and by 'thank' I mean 'kick them in the bollocks.'"

"Yeah, we got that," Harry declared.

"Would it make you feel better if you knew Harry set George on fire after you ran screaming from the room?" Neville asked.

"Yes. Yes, I think it would."

"Harry set George on fire after you ran screaming from the room."

"I didn't mean to!" Harry protested. "I just meant to toast him a little. How was I supposed to know the… stuff… was flammable?"

Hermione grimaced. "That's it. No more eating Firehole Gelly. Not for anyone."

"But… it's good!" Harry protested.

"Anything that makes your… discharge highly flammable cannot be good for you, Harry."

"Once George put himself out, he said it was a good thing it hadn't been quite, uh, processed yet. I guess it tends to self-detonate," Neville muttered, gagging slightly. "The whole common room would've exploded with that… stuff everywhere. It's bad enough we set it on fire. Again."

"That's exactly what I need. Death by spontaneously-combusting wet fart," Hermione growled. "What is their obsession with that, anyway? Do you know how many times I had to wash my hair to get the smell out?"

Harry shrugged. "He said he didn't know how it got in there. He thought they'd gotten rid of all the Brown Geyser Potions."

"Yes, well, this time _we'll_ be sure. Harry, do you remember what it potion looked like?"

Shaking his head Harry said, "Nah, George was up in the canopy." He opened his robe, revealing that the mirrors had been replaced with dozens of phials hanging from the inside. "That's why I took them all, just to be safe."

"Good. I do _not_ want a repeat of that," Hermione firmly declared. "I only had time to take five showers before my registration. Professor McGonagall looked like she was about to die."

"Well, taking lots of showers is good for your hair, at least. It looks really nice," Neville pointed out.

Hermione blushed. For some reason she felt like she'd been doing that a lot lately. "Angel and Orchid accosted me after my interview, during my seventeenth shower. They captured me and spent an hour and a half putting strange plant stuff all over me. I would have escaped, but they did a pretty good job getting the smell out. And… having someone else wash your hair feels kind of nice," Hermione admitted. "Interestingly, it seems like Orchid knows how to make plants from Angel's Other Place."

"Maybe Orchid came from there too?" Harry suggested. "They do really seem to like each other."

"Yes, well, they certainly work well together. I would appreciate it if you would both tell your familiars that I am perfectly capable of washing my own backside and I don't need to be held down and…" Hermione trailed off, blushing even brighter. "Please forget I just said that."

Neville paused a moment, allowing Hermione to get several feet in front of him. "Orchid, did you do something you shouldn't have?"

 _Clean._

He nodded. "She said the oil they used to get the smell out of your hair and skin has to be rubbed in really well, and it's hard to do it yourself."

"Well, why didn't she just tell me that? Or have Angel tell me that, at least?"

"She didn't want to make you rainbow," Neville translated. "And… uh… apparently it's more fun to do when the person you're washing is trying to escape."

"I suppose I can sort of see that. We _are_ talking about two predatory creatures that are known for playing with their food," Hermione conceded.

 _Playing?_

Neville, still several steps behind the other two, went beet-red.

"At least it made your hair easier to braid again," Harry chimed in. "It wasn't as hard to get it to stay straight this time. It looks even nicer than before."

Hermione was starting to wonder if there was a company out there that made blushes. She should probably consider buying stock. "It does…" she conceded. "I… uh… I might want to borrow your familiars now and then, if that's not weird or anything..."

"Of course not. They did a good job, right? They even got all the smell out before tea time," Harry said agreeably.

"I still don't understand why I have to come with you," Hermione whined, her face falling.

"Because you couldn't stretch your registration long enough to get out of it?" Neville suggested.

"I'm still not sure how she knew I hadn't actually gone deaf," Hermione complained. "I'm certain my acting was quite good. She probably just wanted to get rid of the smell..."

"You realize you're admitting that right in front of Harry, right?" Neville asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Considering he basically guilted me into it, I'm not really feeling that bad about trying to get out of it."

"She's got a point," Harry agreed. "That's definitely something I did."

"And that's something you really shouldn't admit to in front of Hermione, Harry," Neville sighed.

"Good friends should be honest with each other, right?" Harry disagreed. "Being honest is just something good friends do. Kind of like going to tea, right?"

Hermione muttered, "I'm starting to question this arrangement."

"Oh, come on. We've had so many _bonding_ experiences. We almost got eaten by a squid. Then we almost drowned. Then Neville got hurt, and Draco got hurt, and Divinity got hurt-"

"Where'd my Remembrall end up, anyway?" Neville asked curiously.

"We're not really sure. For all I know, it could still be between Angel's absurdly-oversized tracts of land," Hermione point out in an annoyed tone of voice.

"Don't worry. I'm sure they'll grow, Mio," Harry reassured her.

"What!?"

"Uh, nothing…"

Neville shook his head and muttered something about 'dangerous territory' before declaring, "Well, tell her she can just keep it. The thing's kinda stupid anyway."

"She did seem to like it for some reason. I guess it was pretty shiny and glowy, and she is a cat, after all."

"Anyway, we set a classroom on fire, then we set our common room on fire, then we set the hallway on fire and buried it under molten stone that almost killed us and we even set the courtyard on fire," Harry announced. "We've bonded _so_ much!"

"Have we actually done anything that didn't involve destruction of property, someone getting hurt or someone being placed in mortal peril?" Neville asked curiously.

"We 'borrowed' a bunch of stuff," Harry pointed out

Hermione nodded. "And we've _planned_ to destroy things, humiliate people and probably place ourselves in mortal peril in the process."

"I think you're starting to scare me," Neville muttered. "Actually, I think _we're_ starting to scare me."

"Following the rules all the time didn't to much more than make me feel bored, alone and unhappy. I'm much happier doing things I want to do and having people to do them with. Even if it means we occasionally almost die," Hermione proclaimed.

"You think nearly being buried under an improvised volcanic eruption is a fair trade for having a couple of friends?" Harry asked curiously.

"Honestly? Yes."

"Oh, good," Harry sighed, "I thought I was weird for thinking that."

"Me too. I've had more fun in a week than I have in… uh… probably my whole life," Neville agreed. "I could do with a little less running from a huge wave of magma, though."

"I told you. We'll build some sort of safe spot next time. Improvised plans are almost invariable flawed somehow," Hermione retorted. "It's just unfortunate that the flaw nearly killed us."

"Fine, but make sure you plan better when we verify the new Potions room," Neville instructed. He was almost immediately subjected to a pair of shocked stares. "What? They said It'll be ready at the end of next week, so we have plenty of time."

Hermione asked, "You actually _want_ us to verify something?"

"You want us to verify a _whole room_!?" Harry added.

"I don't wanna have to deal with Snape. If we verify the room into oblivion, it'll take them another couple of weeks to set up a new one."

"The twins _did_ tell us how to stop him from reading our minds," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, I don't care about that. I just don't like him. He's a jerk."

"He's right, Mio. I totally think we should verify the vasco out of it!" Harry agreed enthusiastically.

"Harry! Language!" Hermione snapped. "And are you really going to keep calling me that?"

"It's pretty," Neville declared.

"It suits you," Harry added.

Hermione ran a hand across the top of her head, running her fingers across the ridges of her braid. It was far from the first time she'd done so. With a sigh she conceded, "Fine, do whatever you want. It's not like I can stop you." Even though she'd turned away, it was quite easy to see her ears turning pink.

"And I can't make you come to tea with Hagrid. You know you don't have to if you really don't want to, right?" Harry asked sadly.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, it's not that I don't want to. I just don't want to be led to my death."

"I'm pretty sure that was a one time thing. Hagrid's a really nice person," Harry insisted. "It's not his fault he has to try and kill us on the way to school. I'm sure he…"

Harry trailed off as the trio came to a halt. As one they carefully examined the path to Hagrid's, taking note of the fact that it ran straight into the Forbidden Forest.

"You were saying?" Hermione sassed.

Harry thought for a moment before requesting, "Orchid, could you come out?"

The killer plant happily complied, sliding out from under Neville's robes and weaving herself into her human form. A moment later - after Neville muttered the word "clothes" in a very put-out tone of voice - she rearranged herself into a more acceptable configuration. She waved at Harry, looking at him expectantly.

"Could you walk ahead of us and eat anything that tries to eat us?" Harry asked.

The plant's eyes widened. She quickly turned and gave her master a pleading look.

Neville shrugged. "Yeah, sure. If it's not a person or a familiar, knock yourself out."

Orchid bounced happily and skipped towards the entrance of the forest. The three first-years trailed along behind her, some more reluctantly than others.

"It's okay, Mio. I really don't think there's anything around scarier than Orchid," Harry comforted Hermione.

"I know. And even if there was, I'm sure Headwig would protect me. Wouldn't you, sweetie?" There was an agreeable hoot from somewhere in her robes. "I'd just feel better if we had Angel too."

"It's too bad we ran into Divinity. Now that I told her she's not allowed to hurt her, all she can do is run away. I think she forgot the fairy can be small enough to go in the tunnels," Harry sighed.

"You really didn't have to do that. It's not like a broken face is actually going to hurt a spirit of that level, and the pervert kind of deserves it," Hermione sniffed. "Seriously, who lets their familiar go around groping people?"

"Uh… doesn't Orchid kind of… technically grope and molest Angel like, all the time?" Harry wondered. "I mean, she wraps herself all around the naughty bits. She likes poking her in no-touch areas and tickling her too…"

Neville blushed slightly. "Uh… I don't think she means anything bad by it. Maybe naughty, but not bad. And Angel doesn't seem to mind much. I think they get along really good."

"Considering the amount of time Orchid spends holding up Angel's boobs, I'd certainly hope they got along well. It's kind of strange, considering how nervous Orchid makes the other familiars," Hermione declared.

"I don't really understand that. It's not fair. There's no reason Orchid shouldn't have friends," Neville sulked. "They _know_ she won't do anything to them."

"A predator's a predator, I suppose," Hermione shrugged. "A bunny might be okay near a wolf, but Orchid's on a whole other level. Even if you know it couldn't hurt you, you wouldn't like sharing a room with a hungry rabid bear. A hungry rabid bear with a machinegun."

"Why a machinegun?" Harry asked curiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So it can machinegun seals, Harry."

"So it's a polar bear?"

"No. It's a regular bear. It just, uh, broke into a zoo."

"Why the heck would it do that?"

There was a sigh. "Because it wanted to machinegun seals, obviously."

"But what if the seals have rocket launchers?"

"Why would a seal have a rocket launcher?"

"To rocket launcher bears, of course."

"Then the bear would hire Fred's knife-monkey to assassinate the ones with the rocket launchers so the it could machinegun the rest."

"Does the monkey hold the knives in his hands or his feet?"  
"He has four knives. He hops on his tail."

"Oh, like a pogo stick."

"Exactly like a pogo stick. That way he can bounce and knife things from the air."

"Does he have a countermeasure for sparrows with anti-monkey coconuts?"  
"There _is_ no counter for anti-monkey coconuts."  
"True. Sparrows with coconuts are like the nukes of animal warfare."

"Are you guys done?" Neville groaned. "Because I'm pretty sure we're here."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.

"We'll have to finish this later, Mio."

"True. It'd be helpful to have some parchment and a quill, anyway."

"Maybe we can get Fred and George to transfigure some models."

With a nod, they turned to face Neville and Orchid.

At some point during their conversation the path had taken a sharp turn. Despite how far they'd walked, they had barely ventured into the forest. The trail widened abruptly, becoming a broad clearing. There was a large cabin in the middle, built from what appeared to be logs taken from this very forest.

Neville and Orchid were waiting just inside the clearing, the latter looking somewhat dejected. There had, after all, been a disappointing lack of monsters to eat.  
"See? That wasn't bad at all. Well, not unless you think Mr. Moo Moo it going to eat our faces," Harry chuckled, pointing at the cow wandering around beside the cabin.

"Okay, fine. I'll give you this one. But if there's some sort of horrible monster behind that door, you're getting the biggest 'I told you so' I can manage, and that's pretty big."

"Uh, yeah. Assuming Orchid eats it before it eats us. It's hard to say that from inside someone's stomach."

"I… think that's probably a pretty safe assumption, Neville," Harry pointed out. "Orchid's the worst monster around, right?"

The plant thought for a moment, the raised her and twisted it back and forth in the universal gesture for "maybe."

"Maybe?" Harry asked in surprise. "Is it that guy with the arms? He does look pretty tough."

Orchid shrugged and began skipping towards the door, a hopeful look on her face. After exchanging a confused glance, the three human followed her.

The cabin's door was quite intimidating. The dark wood and iron hinges gave it a somewhat ominous look. It had clearly been built to Hagrid-sized specifications, meaning it dwarfed the three children standing before it. Harry actually had to get a leg up from Neville to reach the knocker. The iron ring made an enormous booming sound as it struck.

Several long moments passed, the trio waiting nervously. Orchid stood behind the eagerly, the tips of a few dozen thorns sliding out of her skin. Harry couldn't help but notice the deadly vines that had curled around and between them, their poison-coated tip shining in the light. Anything that tried to lunge towards the trio was probably in for a nasty surprise.

After what seemed like several long minutes, the doorknob finally turned. Orchid's vines tensed, their thorns growing longer and sharper. As the portal swung open, they breathlessly waited to see what was hidden behind it.

It was, as it turned out, a bulldog.

The beast wasn't just any bulldog, though. It was an _enormous_ bulldog, far larger than it had any right to be. It was large enough to look at Harry eye-to-eye, and he wouldn't be surprised if the beast weighed five hundred kilograms. It was the sort of canine you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, a light alley or even the neighborhood's quarterly ice cream social.

It was probably a good thing that the dog's considerable intimidation factor was cancelled out by the fact that he was wearing a monocle. He also had a bowler hat perched on his head, tilted at a jaunty angle.

Orchid's vines drooped sadly and were slowly retracted back into her body.

The bulldog turned back to the interior of the cabin and said, "Woof."

"Well then, don't bugger about! Show them in," Hagrid's voice ordered from somewhere within.

The dog took another look at them, then jerked its head towards the interior. It turned and trotted away, clearly expecting them to follow.

The interior of the cabin was a single, massive room. A large bed was positioned in the back left corner. There was a small kitchenette across from it in the back right. Aside from that, there was only really three things that stood out. Every available bit of wall was covered in books, photographs or heads.

For obvious reasons the heads were what stood out the most. There were dozens of them there, all mounted to wooden plaques. They covered nearly the entire far wall and ran along the tops of the other three. The trophies represented an incredible number of creatures from every corner of the globe, both magical and mundane. Hermione didn't recognize all of them off hand, but several of the magical ones fell somewhere between "I hope you don't like your limbs" and "inform your next of kin" on the danger scale.

Several bookshelves were scattered around, embedded in the walls. Every single one of them was full to the point of overflowing. There were scrolls, sheafs of bound parchment, leather-bound tomes, a few things that looked suspiciously like wood or stone tablets and even quite a few muggle paperbacks. There was such a wide array of literature on display that it was almost dizzying.

If a section of wall didn't sport a trophy or bookshelf, there was a good chance it was covered by a photograph. It was a bit hard to tell from a distance, but there seemed to be a fair mix of both muggle and wizard photos.

The only exception to this was on the far wall, right next to a door that presumably lead to the loo. There was a large glass case there containing several objects that Harry and Hermione easily recognized as firearms.

"Ah, come in, come in," Hargid exclaimed. He was wearing what would have been a rather dapper suit, had it not been covered in purple and neon orange zebra stripes. He gestured towards a large table sitting in the center of the room. "Please, make yourselves at home."

The children looked at each other hand shrugged.

"You… uh… have a lovely home," Hermione declared as she climbed up into the chair. Given how high the chair had to be to sit properly at the table, that was quite a bit of climbing.

Hagrid's face brightened as he sat down. "Built with trees from this very forest. It was a bit of a DIY, but I like to think I made a smashing job of it," Hagrid declared. "Oh, but I'm being a bit of a silly bugger, aren't I? I am Rubeus Hagrid. I'm quite chuffed to meet you both."

"Uh… Hi. I'm Hermione," Hermione responded, looking at the large man warily.

"Neville."

"A twee young lass and Frank Longbottom's sprog," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "You've quite good taste in companions, Harry."

Hermione stared down at the table. She decided she really needed to look into copyrighting blushing. She'd make a fortune just off of herself.

Wait. Was that how it worked?

Neville, on the other hand, was looking at Hagrid with a look of curiosity and hope on his face. "You knew my father?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not very well, I'm afraid. We only worked together on a few occasions," Hagrid said regretfully.

"Oh," Neville said softly. He slumped down in his seat, an obviously dejected look on his face."

Hagrid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I _can_ tell you what he was like from a professional standpoint, I suppose. The man was brave to the point that many of his coworkers thought him a bit wonky. He was also one of the toughest blokes I've met. He could chew nails and spit tacks." Hagrid nodded approvingly. "It's no surprise your parents held off the Lestranges and downed a dozen Death Eaters before succumbing."

Neville stared at the giant man with wide eyes. "A dozen?" he echoed in a shocked tone.

"Well… there was a bit of contention on that point. The aurors had a difficult time… reconstructing the bodies," Hagrid coughed into his hand. "Regardless, your parents were a force to be reckoned with. I've no doubt you'll do them proud. You've the same fierce look about you, after all."

Neville froze, an expression like someone had told him the Earth was a flat disk sitting on the backs of four elephants who were in turn standing on a giant space-turtle's shell on his face.

"Fang old boy, how's that tea coming? I could murder a cuppa!" Hagrid called over his shoulder.

"Woof."

Hermione and Harry paused, then slowly turned their gazes to look past Hagrid. In the kitchenette at the back of the cabin, a dog was making tea. The enormous beast was easily standing on its hind legs, trotting back and forth. Even as they watched, he deftly manipulated a large tea percolator.

"A bit barmy, isn't it?" Hagrid asked.

The pair silently nodded in agreement.

"Imagine brewing tea in such an odd contraption. I keep telling him a kettle is good enough, but he insists on using it. Although… it does make a good cuppa," Hagrid grudgingly admitted. "Still, it's very odd."

"Yeah, that's definitely the weird part," Hermione muttered.

"Oh dear! I'm afraid I've gone and dropped a clanger. I assumed your familiar would have little interest in tea, so I took the liberty of preparing the bovine outside for her."

Orchid, still standing behind Neville, slowly turned her hopeful gazed down towards her master.

Neville sighed, "Fine. But don't make a mess. I'd really rather not have to think about how it got there..."

Orchid nodded enthusiastically and happily bounced out of the cabin.

"Mr. Moo Moo…" Hermione whispered.

"Hey, look at it this way," Harry said as he examined Hermione's greenish complexion, "She was really disappointed nothing tried to eat us on the way here…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Harry was a little nervous, so we used Orchid as a meat shield. Uh, plant shield," Hermione explained in response to Hagrid's inquiring look. She tried very hard not to think about the fact than an enormous dog had just put a cup of tea down before her.

" _I_ was nervous?" Harry demanded.

Hermione nodded. "Very good, Harry. It takes a respectable man to admit he was frightened."

"Ah. Well, a spot of caution is always wise, there's no need to go to collywobbles," Hagrid advised.

"Yeah, Harry. Don't go to collywobbles on us," Hermione snickered.

"Indeed," Hagrid agreed. "Nothing too dangerous comes this far out. Giant spiders, a land-shark or two and possibly a Nemean lion are about the worst you have to fear."

Hermione went pale.

Harry watched curiously as Fang trotted around the table and sat down on a cushion next to Hagrid. The dog lifted a front paw and used it to lift a teacup, taking a small sip. "A Nemean lion?"

"I brought him here as a cub," Hagrid explained. "He's proven to be a bit more resilient than I'd thought. I've been chasing the blasted bugger around for two years, and I'm not even sure I've dented his hide. It's gotten to the point where he's something of an old chum now."

"Oh. Of course," Harry muttered, taking a sip of his tea. It _was_ quite good. "Um… this is really good tea, Fang."

"Woof," the dog responded with a nod.

"Hagrid… you said you worked with dad. What did you do?" Neville asked curiously.

Hagrid's enormous finger tapped the table as he frowned in thought. "In my younger days I was an avid hunter and travelled much of the globe. On occasion some sad arse would poke something with a stick, then hire me when it poked back. A pest-removal sort of thing, I suppose. It wasn't uncommon for me to muck in with the locals," Hagrid explained.

Harry examined an enormous insectile head hanging on the wall. It was like someone inflated a scorpion to three hundred times the size, then made it the stuff of nightmares. Well, more than it already was.

"Oh," was all he could think of to say.

"The ministry hired me on more than one occasion. Charging in and casting spells is admirable in its own right, but it is a far cry from the cunning and skill hunting requires. They may find my methods distasteful-" he gestured towards the gun display. "-but results are all that matters. In the end, I suppose hiring me was better than requesting a breaker from the ICW."

"What's a breaker?" Hermione queried.

"Scary…" Neville answered. "Gran doesn't like them at all. She says they're dangerous and crazy."

"The first is most certainly true, yes. The second… is probably true more often than not. A great many of the breakers I've worked with were barmy, and some had lost the plot completely," Hagrid agreed.

"Okay, so they're insane. That's great. But what _is_ a breaker?" Hermione repeated.

"A breaker is essentially an elite, ICW-backed hit wizard. They generally make a normal hit wizard look like a bit of a sissy. The ICW loans them to countries that are unable to deal with magical disasters, cursed relics or magical beasts on their own," Hagrid explained. "They have a tendency to cause quite a bit of destruction and chaos, so they have something of a bad reputation."

"Uh… yeah. Destruction and chaos bad…" Harry muttered.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Very bad. Destruction and chaos are certainly things no upstanding witch or wizard would indulge in."

"Honestly, many of them are quite reasonable when they're not blowing something up. Just look at Minerva. She'd give you a good bollocking, but she's not likely to set you aflame," Hagrid chuckled.

"Minerva… that sounds familiar…" Hermione muttered.

"It would be a bit odd if it didn't, I suppose. She's the head of your house," Hagrid announced.

"..."

"So, let's not get her mad," Harry suggested.

"That's… probably a really good idea," Neville agreed.

"Hagrid. I'm curious. Fang's your familiar, right?"

Hagrid nodded. "That he is. The old boy's the finest canine gentleman you'll ever meet."

"So, how exactly do you go from being a wizard to shooting things in the face with muggle firearms? Most wizards can't even get the word 'firearm' right most of the time, let alone use them."

"That.. is a sad story, I'm afraid. A sad one, but one with a smashing end," Hagrid pronounced as he rose from his chair. "Just one moment."

The trio watched Hagrid walk over and begin searching a bookshelf.

"Woof?"

Harry considered the percolator the large dog was holding aloft. "Oh, no thank you. I've had enough."

"Ooh, I'll have more," Hermione proclaimed. "It's quite lovely."  
"Woof," Fang said happily, pouring her another cup.

"Here we are," Hagrid announced, dropping a rather large book onto the table. Flipping it open, he proudly pressed a finger upon one of the photographs held within. "This is my lord and patron, The Most Honorable Matthew Bromley, 7th Earl of Funnyrock."

Three students stared at the photo curiously.

"He's wearing a pirate hat. It has poofy feathers and everything," Harry observed.

"Is that a bottle of rum in his hand?" Hermione asked. "And why does he have a fistful of one pound notes?"

Neville's eyes widened. "Those girls in the back… they're not wearing much…"

"My Lord Bromley was a strange sort. He was the most noble and honorable man you were ever likely to meet. He would always do you right, treated others with all the respect and they were due regardless of status and was refined and dignified to a tee in any social setting that required it," Hagrid informed them. "He was, however, always eager to 'yank the stick out of his ass' and relax. He said to me one day, 'Hagrid, being refined is fine, but that doesn't mean you can't get blitzed out of your mind, pretend that's why you suck at darts and use an improvised crossbow to fire a thousand pounds worth of rolled up notes at homeless men.'"

"He's carrying a basket full of kittens and wearing a shirt that says 'I love pussy' in this one…"

"Uh… Is he having an argument with a parrot right here?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, I remember that!" Hagrid happily proclaimed. "They spent two hours screaming, 'Stop copying me!' at each other before my lord sobered up."

"He's dressed like Lex Luthor and kicking a guy dressed like Superman in the bollocks in this one. Wait, did he shave his head just so he could do that?"

"He had a strange love of American comic books and an even stranger sense of humor. Honestly, he was a bit barmy at times."

"That would explain why he's walking around dressed as Batman and holding a sign saying, 'will you be my daddy' in this one."

"At one point I was required to carry a trunk full of costumes. He'd approach beautiful women and offer them a bung if they chose one and posed for a risque photo. He even made the offer to a rozzer that came by to make us shove off. She made an excellent Poison Ivy."

"Where is Funnyrock, anyway?" Hermione inquired. "I've never even heard of it."

"Ah, you see… I don't know," Hagrid admitted sheepishly. "No one knows, actually. It's a bit of an odd story. My lord's full title was 'Earl of That Funny Looking Rock About A Twenty Minute Hike North of the Castle In Moderate to Fair Weather.' In the middle of a weeklong bender, King William the Fourth decreed that the first person who brought him the 'cutest fucking kitty' would be granted peerage. Because he was absolutely steaming at the time, not even _he_ knew which rock he meant. Historians have been debating it for over a century."

"Okay… If they taught that kind of thing in school, it would've been a lot more interesting," Harry decreed.

"Meeting my lord was the turning point of my life. As a result of poor circumstances and my own bad judgement, everything had gone balls up. I was expelled from Hogwarts and` my wand snapped."

"What!?" Harry exclaimed in shock.

"Indeed. Heartbroken, I made my way into the muggle world to get absolutely pissed. People tended to assume I was of age because of my size, you see. My lord took it upon himself to take a seat with a disheveled, dirty fool. When he learned I had no home, no money, no family and no future, he announced that he was in need of a porter and had been looking for a man of my size. He took me in, and I served as his manservant until the day he died. He was my most beloved companion."

"Woof!" Fang protested.

"Oh, don't be like that, old boy. A familiar is no mere companion. Besides, you were quite fond of him yourself."

"Woof," Fang grudgingly agreed.

"Don't let the old boy fool you," Hagrid whispered theatrically. "He could get downright unpleasant if someone tried any dodgy business around our lord."

"Of course. Any gentleman would," Neville said, earning and approving "Woof," from Fang.

"It was from my lord I learned my love of hunting. After a few years I began introducing him to more… interesting game. Even took him on several jobs once they started coming in. We simply told my employers he was a squib," Hagrid chuckled. "They never looked at him twice after that."

Hermione stared at him. "You told him about magic!? Hagrid, that's very illegal!"

"I had his gentleman's oath he would tell no one."

"But…"

"Uh, Mio? Stones and windows…" Harry muttered as he watched the dog fill her cup again. "You're gonna have to splash water in the boat _so_ bad later."

"Oh, be quiet. But… I suppose that's true."

"Mio?" Hagrid asked curiously.

Harry nodded. "Angel decided Hermione needed a prettier name. She came up with 'Mio' and we decided it sounded nice."

"How lovely," Hagrid proclaimed. "It means 'cherry blossom' in Japanese, you know."

"Oh, that's what George said, too. How did you know that?" Neville asked.

"My lord and I traveled quite a bit. I've found that speaking the local language is very useful. Japanese happens to be one of the ones I'm fluent in. Mandarin is also quite prominent in that part of the world, but I'm afraid I'm little more than comprehensible in that."

"That's still very impressive. Learning an entire language isn't easy."

"I've often been told so, but it seem little trouble to me," Hagrid sighed and stood. "Well, now that I've waffled on and filled your clocks with a bunch of codswallop, you'd best get back to the castle. Dinner will most likely begin shortly."

The children nodded in agreement and quickly finished their tea, a process that took slightly longer than it should have due to Fang's sudden decision to dump the remainder into a thermos for Hermione. As they were turning to leave, Hagrid strode over and pressed a small book into Neville's hands.

" _The Fatale Forest_ ," Neville read curiously.

"It contains quite a bit of information that may prove useful," Hagrid informed him. "I've also been tasked with providing regular live meals for your Orchid."

"More Mr. Moo Moo?" Hermione whispered in horror. "Mr. Moos Moo… Mr. Moo Moos?"

"Distasteful as it may seem, the alura une is a spirit that thrives on living prey. It is unlikely she will be satisfied with merely eating a roast turkey, and it could be detrimental to her health."

Neville grimaced. "I- I get it. We should… probably go get her now."

The three quickly left the cabin, steeling their stomachs as they rounded the corner. What they saw there made them freeze in their tracks.

"Okay, were either of you guys expecting this?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Neville stared at Orchid, who was perched atop Mr. Moo Moo's back, happily riding him around the pen.

"You know… not that I'm complaining… but there's a lot less blood than I was expecting," Harry proclaimed.

Neville nodded and agreed, "A _lot_ less blood."

"Should we just take her back to the castle?" Hermione wondered. "We could spare Mr. Moo Moo his terrible fate."

"You heard what Hagrid said, though… It might not be good for her," Neville said reluctantly.

Harry motioned toward the familiar. "Right. Knock yourself out, then."

"What? Why do I have to tell her!?"

"Neville," Hermione sighed. "She's _your_ familiar. That means you get to deliver Mr. Moo Moo's death sentence."

"Why couldn't _I_ have the catgirl…" Neville muttered.

"Neville? She watches me _pee_ , man…"

"Right! So, sucks to be Mr. Moo Moo, huh?" he announced as he stepped forward. "Hey, uh, Orchid?"

Catching sight of her master, the plant waved happily. Just as she did, Mr. Moo Moo turned at the end of the enclosure. Orchid's gaze remained on Neville, her vines and flowers reconfiguring so she could swivel her head 180 degrees.

"Okay… it's a good thing we're building up a resistance to mental trauma," Harry declared.

"Harry, you _can't_ build up a resistance to that. I don't think so, anyway," Hermione protested.

"Sure you can. You get cut and you get a scar, right? And the scar's tougher than the skin was. So obviously the more mental scarring we have, the more resistant to stuff like this we'll be! Being horrifically traumatized is actually a good thing!" Harry reasoned.

Hermione nodded. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, but I'm going to pretend it is. Because if that _isn't_ how it works, thinking about the rest of my life scares me."

"Orchid, you know Mr. Moo Moo's food, right? I mean, you can keep him as a pet if you want, but that's not what he's for," Neville told his familiar.

She gave him the "confused plant" look.

"Mr. Moo Moo," Neville said slowly, pointing at the cow, "is food," He raised his hands and made a motion similar to Orchid's bloom closing.

The spirit stared at him for a second, then her eyes widened as realization set in.

What happened next is probably best left to the imagination. It involved thick, thorn-covered vines and flower petals that closed with the force of a steel trap. There was a single, terrified moo. The sounds that came after were much less pleasant: a series of crunches and slurps. Overall, it can be summed up quite easily.

Alura une are messy eaters.

Harry, Hermione and Neville stood by the corner of the cabin, shellshocked looks on their faces. Their _red_ faces, painted by the same fluid that was plastering their robes to their bodies. Hermione very slowly turned her head and spit to the side, discharging a large glob of reddish material.

"Oh… you had your mouth open too?" Neville asked.

Hermione nodded wordlessly.

"Well, that makes me feel a little better."

"Guys…" Harry whimpered. "I think I just swallowed a kidney."

Hermione smeared her tongue across the roof of her mouth and spit again. "Do you think that tastes better or worse than a spleen?"

"Well, 'spleen' sounds funner. I don't know if that relevant," Neville whispered. "Can- can you tell I'm crying under the blood?"

"I'm not sure we can tell you're _you_ under the blood."

Orchid happily flounced up to her master and leaned forward to examine his face, cutely clasping her hands behind her back.

"Uh… Orchid?" Hermione muttered. "You've… uh… you've got a little thing…" she advised, making a vague motion.

Orchid stared at her in confusion, then straightened and raised her hand to her face. She felt around for a moment before extracting a strand of viscera from the corner of her mouth. Blushing prettily, she quickly ate it.

"Yeah… that too. I was talking about that, though," Hermione clarified, pointing.

The plant looked down and examined the large loop of cow intestine that was hanging out of her stomach. Frowning at it, she gave it an experimental tug. The messy chunk of bovine stubbornly refused to move. She glared at it again, then shrugged.

Her entire midriff split open into a vicious maw full of thorn-teeth and writhing viney tongues. The jaws came down on the intestines with a squish and dragged them into the thorny hell within the spirit's body. Her torso resealed a moment later, leaving no sign something that would make Stephen King piss his pants had just occoured.

"You know what would be nice right now?" Harry rhetorically inquired. "Pretty much anything with alcohol in it. I've never actually had alcohol, but I'm pretty sure this is why people start drinking."

"Harry, people start drinking because they lost their jobs. _This_ is why people start snorting cocaine off a hooker's bottom in between taking hits off a joint," Hermione disagreed, immediately receiving two shocked looks. "What? So my parents need to screen the dvds I buy a bit better. That's hardly my fault."

"I bet the twins could get us some booze," Harry suggested.

Neville frowned. "Harry, do you really think- Wait, nevermind. I just realized how stupid that question was gonna be."

"You guys can go bum some liquor if you want. I've just realized I haven't spent quite half the day in the shower. I think I'll go remedy that," Hermione announced. "Harry, if you see Angel tell her I could use some help scrubbing my backside. You too, you horrific flower full of terror. I need your fluids and you have to help cover the cat's claws. This is _your_ mess, so you get to help clean it up."

Harry nodded. "Sure. I'm sure she'll be happy to… uh… happy too…"

"What? Why are you both staring at me!?" Hermione demanded.

There was a slight tug at Hermione's neck. Frowning in confusion, she turned her head. The motion allowed Headwig to easily yank the slimy red string of meat she'd been pulling on out of Hermione's collar. The owl stood there on her shoulder and looked back at her with offending meat hanging from her beak.

Hermione smiled at her familiar. "Oh, Headwig. Are you trying to clean mommy up? You're such a good girl!"

Headwig stared at Hermione.

Hermione stared at Headwig.

There was a long, drawn-out slurping sound as the strip of cow was slowly sucked into the owl's beak.

* * *

A/N:

So, sorry for going so long between updates. As it turned out, typing with one hand turned out to be a lot more of a pain in the ass than I expected. Since I decided this chapter needed several large corrections and alterations, that led to problems. The good news is that I'm pretty much back to normal now, and free to type with both hands. That should speed things up considerably.

We got a little back story here, both on Hagrid and the Longbottoms. Just a bit of background on why some characters have turned out so different. There'll be a bit about McGonagall's past later on, why she isn't a Dumbledore cultist and by she became a breaker. There'll also be a bit of info about how things went different in the 40's, and how that lead to the higher wizarding population I've passingly mentioned.

That bit of info hasn't really become relevant in the story yet, but it's not a bad idea to keep in mind that there's at least two to three times as many wizards in this world. The highest number I ever heard for Hogwarts' cannon population was from an old interview where Rowling pegged it at around 1000. Later interviews and such say much less.

1000 / 7 years = 143 per year. Assuming an average life expectancy of a hundred years, that's 143,000 living wizards. Going by Harry's year, you figure around 80 new students a year for 80,000 total wizards. That's almost half as many. You can brush this off by saying Voldemort's reign of terror affected birth rates that year, but it's still an insanely small population.

I've kind kind of hinted at the higher population by, say, mentioning that there's more than one third-year dorm room, but haven't got to a point where saying it outright fits naturally.

You're obviously the sort of person that reads author's notes if you got this far, so thanks for reading my rambling. There'll never be anything really crucial down here, but there might be little details that make things more interesting and, as seen in prior chapters, my random thoughts on the story and current chapter.

Oh, the chapter. So, yeah… apparently I hate my characters. Like, a lot. On the other hand, suffering trauma after trauma is a good way to excuse any erratic behavior that general stress, latent personality traits and being connected to a monster don't. Also, in case you missed the subtle hints, Crookshanks got nommed. Not originally part of the plan, but I decided I liked Headwig better. Orchid and Angel have decided girl-time with Hermione is important, which'll change somethings, and the girl herself got a new name. Why? Mainly because I got tired of coming up with random things for the twins and Angel to call her.

Chapter 18 needs a bit of heavy revision. I decided to go a different direction, it's getting changed quite a bit, while 19 and 20 are pretty much getting scrapped and totally rewritten. It's kind of a pain, but I decided I didn't really like where I was going. That's the advantage of writing a few chapters ahead, I suppose.

"Loopholes and Oversights" is coming in the near future. It features… loopholes and oversights. Also: frozen pumpkin juice, muggle porno, pilfered materials, intestinal distress, Yur Rek Tum explodes onto the scene, the world's deadliest poke, happy family fun time and the beginning of a massive headache for Bumblemore. Seriously, this is why your plan shouldn't rely heavily on keeping people in the dark...

So look forward to that, and sorry about the long note. In case you haven't noticed, I tend to get distracted and ramble...


	18. Loopholes and Oversights

Something Familiar

Chapter 18: "Loopholes and Oversights"

AKA: "Shit Happens"

* * *

They say people can get used to anything, and children were notorious for being extremely adaptable. By the time they approached the end of September, life at Hogwarts had become the new norm. Gently nudging a dangerous creature out of your chair was commonplace, and pausing at intersections to let a small stampede of fuzzies pass was just another excuse to be late to class. Even the first-year muggleborn began to accept magic as normal. Soon it was just another thing to learn, and their first thought upon seeing a professor make a stool dance was to wonder how hard it would be.

Most students knew nothing of the poison in their midst.

Like any good revolution it started-

"Revolution, Fred? I don't think that's quite right," Harry protested.

"Yeah, it's not like we're planning on overthrowing anyone, right? I mean… _are_ we planning on overthrowing anyone?" Hermione asked. She sounded almost hopeful.

"We're _not_ overthrowing anyone," Neville said firmly. "Seriously guys, no overthrowing."

An ominous event looms over the horizon, casting a shadow of-

"Yes, thank you Fred," Hermione interrupted. "Why do you even know a spell that gives you narrator-voice, anyway? Actually, why is that spell even a thing that exists?"

"He likes to listen to radio dramas on the Wireless. Real 'my husband is sleeping with my sister's dog-groomer's husband who's having an affair with an alien that's carrying Satan's child' sort of stuff. He's wanted to be in one since forever. This was one of the first spells he learned," George explained. He casually rammed his finger up his nose and withdrew a large, sticky bogey. With a happy smile he opened his mouth and-

"Fred, don't make me hit you. Last time it was a brick. This time it'll be a little armored owl," George threatened. Giving his brother a menacing stare, he pointed up at the pile above them.

Angel was passed out, sleeping in a way that only a cat could. She was more or less on her back with a random arrangement of vines supporting her awkwardly splayed limbs. Orchid was also dozing there, curled up into a tight ball on the cat's chest. In addition to the man-eating plant, she had acquired foxy foot and neck warmers. A pool of water had collected in the hollow left by Orchid's body - a place that certainly shouldn't be able to contain it - and was supporting the Owlverlord as she bobbed gently back and forth.

Even as they watched, Orchid turned in her sleep. Pulling herself up slightly, she nibbled on Angel's neck. The cat-

"Seriously, Fred. Don't make me throw an owl at you. We'll both regret it."

Yeah, speaking of that, is this really a good place to be sitting? I'm thinking it's not on account of, you know, the mass of claws, talons and thorns suspended above us.

"Oh, please. Your familiar mauls you all the time. So does the one that isn't yours. Why shouldn't mine maul you too?"

"I'm pretty sure it's not Headwig he's worried about," George pointed out.

Harry and Neville exchanged a look. Neville reached into his pants and grasped the massive bulge he found there.

"Why is there a pair of wadded up socks in my pants, Harry?" Neville asked, turning an accusing gaze towards his friend.

"Because your pockets are full. I had to put them _somewhere_ , didn't I?" Harry answered reasonably.

Neville frowned and removed his robe. There was a strange clattering sound as he swept it around and upended it. Hundreds of pebbles poured out onto the stump, hitting the ironwood surface and bouncing in every direction. Neville sighed and reached into his pants pocket, producing yet more pebbles.

"I thought my robes felt a little heavier than normal. Harry, why did you feel like you had to fill all my pockets with little rocks?"

"I found them by the lake. They're pretty."

Neville squinted and examined his handful of rocks carefully. "They are quite pretty," he admitted.

"Ooh, this one's green and shiny!' Hermione exclaimed as she held a stone up to the light. "It almost looks like jade… Wait, this _is_ jade! And this one's turquoise? And… red coral!? That's not even a rock! Why on Earth would red coral be on the shore of a _lake_!?"

"It's a _magic_ lake," Harry and George answered together.

Harry carefully reached out and snagged a large piece of amber. Something told him Hermione wouldn't react well to the weird tentacled spider thing in it. Especially since it was still moving…

"There's no spider thing, Fred. Seriously, stop that. You're giving me a headache," George muttered. "This is getting so confusing I'm not even sure I know what _I'm_ doing. You… Hey, Nev? You okay man?"

Neville looked back at him with a wide-eyed, haunted expression on his face. He had gone quite pale and was shaking slightly. "I- I just realized… What's real, George?" he asked unsteadily. "Is real even a thing, or is it all a lie. Am I even talking right now? I don't know, because me talking might just be Fred saying I'm talking…"

"Oh, good job, brother. You broke Lord Nev," George snapped. "You see what happens when you act like an idiot?"

I'm pretty sure being an idiot doesn't normally cause mental breakdowns.

Hermione gave Neville a reassuring pat on the head. "There there, Nev. It's okay. We'll punish Fred for his crimes. We'll make sure he'll never want to say confusing things again."

Hey now, that's taking it a little- Mio, where are my socks?

"They're on your feet, Fred. Where else would they be."

Fred pulled up his robes and examined his feet again. These aren't my socks.

"Don't narrate your own actions, Fred. It hurts my brain," Harry whimpered. Scowling at the redhead, he continued, "That was not a whimper, Fred!"

Seriously though, where the hell are my socks?

"Ask Harry. I'm pretty sure he stole them from me a while ago," Hermione responded.

Fred turned his expectant gaze toward Harry.

The boy shrugged. "I think they're probably in the Hufflepuff dorms by now. I got you a scarf, though."

Harry, I don't need a… Hey, this is kind of nice.

"Merlin, I can't wait for you guys to wind down a little…" George sighed. He reached into his robes and produced a pair of boxers. Frowning, he reached in again, fished around and produced three more and a pair of panties. "At least I didn't end up _wearing_ the panties this time…"

"Wind down?"

"The whole stealing thing is obviously some kind of inherent spell. I mean, Harry can put a candy bar in my pocket from the other side of the table," George reasoned as he munched on a chocolate bar. "And Mio can strip someone naked in the middle of the Great Hall, but it takes everyone a couple of minutes to notice."

Hermione giggled. "That was funny."

"My point is that those aren't things a normal wizard can do. Especially not without a wand."

"But… that doesn't make sense! You're born with those, right?" Hermione protested. "King was always dense, right?"

"Hey, where's King?" Harry asked curiously.

He left as soon as I used the Narrator Spell. He hates it.

"Said something about meddling with powers beyond our understanding," George said dismissively. He paused to scratch his ass, then sniffed his fingers and recoiled with a look of disgust before continuing. "Fred, I'm seriously gonna owl you upside the head if you keep doing that."

Fred turned and mooned him in response.

"Gah! Damn it Fred, put that away!" George wailed. "And that wasn't a wail, it was more of a horrified shriek."

Fred grinned at his friends. Giving his ass one final wiggle, he slowly pulled up his pants.

"Fred? _Actually_ pull up your pants," Hermione ordered. She was trying to both avert her eyes and glare at the rogue twin with little success.

Fred pulled his pants up, this time for real.

"Fred... " George growled, his voice so full of malice that it was nearly tangible.

Fred redeployed his trousers.

"Thank you. And, as much as I hate to admit it, the tangible malice thing was pretty good," George sighed. "Now, what the hell were we talking about?"

It took him a moment to recall that they were discussing inherent spells.

"Right. Thanks. So, inherent spells are pretty weird. You're born with them, but sometimes they're dormant until something triggers them. In Harry's case, it was probably when he stole that first whatever it was. Mio probably tripped hers when she decided someone else's robes were hers," George explained. "Problem is, these spells like to be used. They've just sat there for so long, so they want to make up for lost time. Eventually you'll get it out of your system and won't be snatching things left and right."

You'll probably still gank a lot of crap, though. Like he said, they like to be used. Sometimes a little too much. King can't stop his at all.

"Yeah, some are like that," George agreed.

The gathered students watched in horror as his face split open, revealing the writhing nest of maggots hidden within.

"Okay, that's just messed up," Harry muttered.

Hermione nodded. "I may enjoy Lovecraftian horror, but too much is too much. Isn't there some way to end that stupid spell?"

"Not really," George answered with a frown. "And the Silencing Spell doesn't even work on it."

Hermione thought for a moment. "You know, there's other ways to shut someone up."

"Do tell," George prompted, looking at her curiously.

The witch held up a (no doubt pilfered) sock. As George watched, she dumped several handfuls of pebbles into it. Finally she hefted it, nodded in satisfaction and whirled it around, slamming it into the table with a heavy thud.

"My parents _really_ need to screen what I watch better."

* * *

There was a soft sigh as another goblet was set on the table. It joined half a dozen others and, like the rest, was filled with a solid block of frozen pumpkin juice. Snow stared at the cluster of cups mournfully, then reached for the next one.

"You know, you should probably be helping her or something," Daphne pointed out.

Blaise shrugged. "She's a corporeal spirit, Daph. Food and drink hold no value for her. I'm not even sure why she's expending the effort. Imagine the time and money you could save if you didn't have to eat."

Daphne glared at him and ground out, "That's not the point."

Blaise leaned back in his seat with a nervous look on his face. Putting a little extra distance between them didn't seem like a bad idea, especially considering how odd she'd been acting. "It's not like I haven't tried, Daph. I've held the cup for her, but the juice just freezes when it hits her lips and the goblet becomes cold very quickly. I've already been treated for frostbite three times in the past week. I'm not eager for a fourth."

"I'm sorry…" Snow whispered.

"It's not your fault, Snow. I understand you're not damaging me because you want to," Blaise said comfortingly. He reached up and gave her a reassuring pat on the head. His eyes widened the moment he touched her and he jerked his hand back with a hiss.

Daphne snorted, "Four."

"Oh yes, very funny," Blaise muttered as he dug through his bag. After searching around for a moment, he produced a large tin. "Frostbite Salve is inexpensive, but at this rate it could have a major effect on my budget."

"You could always try… not touching her," Daphne suggested.

"You do realized that sort of thing is difficult to remember regarding your familiar? In most cases, that manner of physical bonding is considered quite worthwhile," Blaise replied as he smeared the salve over his palm. Satisfied with his work, he pulled out a bandage and began wrapping his hand. "I'm becoming quite good at this. A valuable skill, I suppose, even if it's unwanted."

"That's funny. I don't have a problem not touching mine," Daphne declared. She turned to examine Sparkles critically. The asura was leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on the table. He held four huge hunks of meat in his lower hands and a pair of goblets in the other two.

Blaise studied the asura as he let out a huge belch. "I believe Snow is quite a bit more emotionally and physically approachable than Sparkles. Well, aside from the frostbite. I believe the word would be 'cute.'"

Just the tiniest bit of color appeared on Snow's cheeks.

"Hey! Th' hell're ya talkin' about? 'M cute as hell!" Sparkles protested through a mouthful of chicken. "'M like a frikkin' unicorn! Th' kids love me so much they scream when they see me."

"Would this be before or after you murder their parents?" Daphne asked blandly.

"Usus'ly after," Sparkles admitted. "Ya shoulda seen how psyched this one brat was when I showed up dressed like th' Santa guy an' beat 'is pops ta death with a bag a' toys. I actu'ly felt a li'l bad 'bout that one. All th' toys I left 'im was busted n' covered wit' blood."

"That is… horrifying," Blaise announced.

"'M a frikkin' asura. The hell ya think 'm gonna do?" He twitched as another sigh came from across the table. Suddenly leaning forward, he slammed a massive fist down just in front of Snow. The yuki-onna squeaked and recoiled in fear. "Would'ja stop that, dammit!?"

"Take it down a notch, Arms," Daphne ordered. "She can't help it."

"She can' help it!? Fine. I kin help it!" Sparkles declared. One of his arms shot forward.

"Sparkles! Don't' hurt… her…"

The other three occupants of the table stared. The asura was leaning halfway across towards Snow. One of his arms was lifted towards her, a bent and deformed goblet held in his hand. The metal was glowing softly around his fingers and the liquid inside was spitting and hissing.

Snow looked down at it in shock.

"Drink it," the asura ordered.

Snow continued to stare.

"Ya stupid or somethin'? Drink th' shit."

Slowly and carefully raised her hands and wrapped them around his. "So warm…" she sighed.

"Yer startin' ta piss me koff. More. Yer startin' ta piss me off _more._ Ya don' drink it 'n 'm gonna hafta help ya. Judgin' by th' last guy, ya ain't gonna like that."

Snow obediently raised his hand and poured the liquid into her mouth. It turned into a thin slush on contact, but was still drinkable. Lowering his hand, she brushed a small cluster of ice particles off her lips whispered, "Thank you…"

"Tch,' Sparkles scoffed. He crumpled the deformed goblet into a ball and tossed it over he shoulder.

From further down the hall there was a scream of, "Ball!" followed immediately by "Angel! No!"

"And here I'd just assumed you'd spontaneously combust if you did something nice," Daphne stated.

"Wasn' nothin' nice 'bout that. Th' li'l whiny noise was pissin' me off. Was either that or punch th' broad, then hit 'im with th' table fer not stoppin' it," Sparkles announced, pointing at Blaise with three arms..

"Well, I for one value your ability to make rational-"

Blaise cut off as a sad sigh came from his right. Turning, he observed Snow staring at a platter of sandwiches. The snow woman sighed again, then looked hopefully up at Sparkles.

"Please don't do the table thing," Blaise begged.

"Don't to the table thing," Daphne ordered.

"Can' have any frikkin fun," complained Sparkles. He reached out towards the platter.

Snow's eyes widened with hope as he lowered his hand. Sparkle's veins lit up as he touched the pile of sandwiches. There was a sudden flash of heat that reduced the sandwiches to charcoal blocks and turned the platter into a bubbling pool of silver.

Snow whimpered

"Oops," Sparkles chuckled. "My bad."

"I was going to have one of those, you know," Daphne declared.

Sparkles considered her for a moment, the reached out and grabbed a lump of charcoal. He carefully shook most of the liquid silver off and held it up in front of her.

"Here ya go, Boss. Nice 'n crispy."

Daphne glared. Sparkes gave a multi-shrug and started munching on the briquette.

"Well, I do take some comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who has these troubles," Blaise announced as he stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with one of our housemates regarding illicit muggle… art. Would you mind watching Snow for me, Daph?"

"You're _already_ doing that?"

Blaise gave her a confused look. "Of course. Insuring that I would be my family's contact in Hogwarts was quite costly. Do you expect me to let it go to waste?"

"Fine. As long as she doesn't take the robe thing off again."

"That _is_ very strange. You'd think she'd want to keep it on. They're warm. Well, they would be if they actually covered her."

"Clothes keep heat in, Blaise," Daphne pointed out. "She doesn't have any heat to keep in. The air is actually a lot warmer than her body, so clothing is probably counterproductive."

"Air is warm…" Snow confirmed.

"I suppose I can see why she would find baring her skin desirable, then," Blaise conceded. "Though I'm beginning to suspect that demihumans simply don't like clothing."

Sparkles quickly looked away from the humans, whistling a nonchalant tune. At the same time, Snow looked down at her kimono in annoyance. "It's cold..." she complained, tugging at it.

There was another pained noise as Blaise reflexively grabbed her hand and yanked to front of the garment back closed. Scowling down at his formerly frostbite-free hand, he muttered, "Yes, well, going without it would make our future relations with others difficult. Please keep it on, and try not to 'lose' this one, because I find it highly suspicious that three articles of clothing have vanished recently. Fine cloth and custom tailoring do not come cheap. Keep this up and mother may well decide outfitting you with decent clothing is not worth the expense."

Snow looked down at the table and pouted sadly.

"I don't know if 'decent' is quite the right word to use here, Blaise," Daphne announced. She was studying her familiar with a suspicious look on her face, scrutinizing him as he tried his very best to look innocent. "Sparkles... is there something you'd like to tell-"

A naked redhead slammed into their table, sending food flying in every direction. With a happy shout, she tossed the previously discarded goblet into the air and lashed out. Chunks of pewter went flying in every direction.

"A~w, my ball... Why does that always happen…?" Angel whined, laying flat on her back on the tabletop. She allowed her head to flop over the edge so she could stare at Snow. "Ooh, you're pretty. You'd be prettier if you were right side up, though."

"Hey! That was my food ya crazy bitch!" Sparkles growled. He lunged forward, one hand spread to grab the cat's hair. "Ya think ya kin just-"

The asura froze and stared in shock at the fingernail protruding from the back of his hand. Angel had gone from laying flat on her back to sitting in the middle of the table in the blink of an eye. Her hand was raised, index finger extended to drive the nail through the center of his palm. She smiled at him and twisted it back and forth slightly, getting a grunt of pain in response.

"You don't like your arms very much, do you?" she asked quietly. There was an almost inaudible sound as she raked her nails through the table and lifted her hand in front of her face. "That's okay. I'm a good kitty. I can help. I'm sure you don't need all six, anyway…"

"Angel! Why are you naked!?" Harry shouted from the next table over.

The familiar blinked, then shook her head. "Oh! I'm sorry Mr. Arm Man, but you surprised me! That wasn't very nice, was it?" she apologized. She pulled her fingernail from his hand and licked a drop of blood of it. "But you should always play nice games. If you play rough, someone might play rougher."

"Get over here so Orchid can put clothes on you! Why did you even cut them off!?"

The cat stared at him for a moment longer, then stood. "My Boy, Flower was naughty! My viney things were getting all touchy! They were being very, very bad plants!"

Without further word, the cat launched back towards her table.

"Okay, what th' hell?" Sparkles demanded.

* * *

Fred stared as the cabinet door swung open from the wrong side, observing the way it swung open on nonexistent hinges.

"I really can't get over this. Four cabinets now. Four cabinets full of potentially dangerous and valuable materias, and it's worked every time," he announced as he stared at the chunk of actual hinge still connected to the cabinet. The other half was attached to the door, flopping uselessly as it swung. "What's the point of putting on a locking spell if we can just hack the door off?"

"I don't think security plans generally factor in the possibility of metal-slicing fingernails, Fred." Hermione pointed out. "Not everyone can just slice them in half without using magic."

Angel giggled. "No hinge can withstand my might! It's because I'm unhinged," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Can't argue that," Harry sighed.

"I think repairing the hinges is probably the best part of this whole thing," George decided. "Imagine opening a cabinet sealed by your own locking spells and finding out it's not materials waiting in there."

"I told you this was a good idea, Harry," Neville said.

"Hey, I didn't think it'd be so easy to sneak around at night," Harry muttered. "And I didn't even know if the hinge thing would work. We might have been caught for nothing."

Hermione shook her head. "Most low-level locking spells work a lot like a muggle lock. They just keep part of the door connected to the frame. Considering that, it was perfectly reasonable logic. It's kind of obvious, actually. Fred's right. Why hasn't someone fixed this?"

"Wizards are lazy," Neville admitted with a frown. "Why do you think we have things like the Summoning Spell and Levitation Charm?"

"I'd assume the Levitation spell was used for the construction of large structures, like Hogwarts. It'd be pretty hard to move some of the bigger stones," Hermione answered. "And the Summoning Spell would have been the same, right? It sounds like it'd be really good for calling the tools you'd need."

Neville shook his head. "The Summoning Spell is only thirty years old. It was made by a wizard named Bailey Sharp. He live outside of a muggle town and really liked their pop, but he didn't like putting on pants. So he made the spell to summon bottles of it, then banished the money back in the same direction. His aim wasn't very good, so the muggles would wake up to find holes in the walls and money all over the place," he explained.

Harry and Hermione stared at him, looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.

"You've _got_ to be kidding!"

"No, it's true," Neville insisted. "He used to get in trouble with the Ministry a lot. Once his aim was really bad and one of the muggles was turned the wrong way. A roll of coins went… uh… the obliviators passed it off as an encounter with a frisky bear that'd escaped from the zoo. I know because he's a cousin a bunch of times removed. Gran used to tell me how much of a _credit_ he was to our house and how _proud_ I should be of him."

 _As if a lazy weakling deserves my respect._

Neville's robes rippled as the vines wrapped around his body writhed. There was a faint tearing noise as several thorns suddenly became long enough to tear at his clothing. He frowned and looked down at his chest.

"Orchid, what're you doing? You know you're not supposed to rip my clothes. I can't just have George and Fred keep mending..." Neville trailed off, staring at the empty place beside him. Frowning, he turned to examine the place Fred had hastily relocated to. "Fred, what're you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything!" the twin said defensively. His denial probably would have been a bit more believable if he hadn't issued it while peering at Neville over the top of an upturned table. "I'm not doing anything at all! Why would I be doing something? There's no reason to eat me at all!"

"Huh?"

"Screw _what_ is he doing, I wanna know _how_ the hell he did it. Fred, that's a potions bench. It's made of ironwood. It must weigh something like two hundred kilograms!" George exclaimed. "How the hell did you just yank on a two hundred kilogram table and flip it over!?"

"What potions bench? I don't remember a potions bench!" Fred denied, still fearfully peering at Neville over the piece of furniture. "You can't prove I had anything to do with a potions bench!"

Harry pointed at Fred's hands. "Fred, you're holding it. You're holding it so hard your hands are all white and boney looking."

The boy in question stared at his straining digits. "O~h, that potions bench. I remember that. Sure, she had a couple of drinks, but it was totally consensual."

"Please don't go there, brother. I'd rather not have to help you because you got… stuck… in another piece of furniture," George groaned.

"I've told you a hundred times, that was a misunderstanding!" Fred snapped. "I fell and it just kind of landed there, that's all."

"Then why was it all covered in oil?"

"That was for the popcorn, damn it! It spilled when if fell."  
George shook his head. "Right. The popcorn that had mysteriously disappeared by the time I got up to our room."

"I told you, it flew out the window. The gnomes must have stolen it after that."

"Never heard of garden gnomes eating popcorn, Fred. That's a pretty flimsy excuse."

"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of such a little accident," Fred groaned.

"Little? It wasn't _your_ sock drawer that got defiled. I had to burn all my socks, just in case…"

"Do you think I asked someone to put a knothole right there, George? _I_ was the one that got stuck, and you don't hear me whining about it. Those scrapes took weeks to heal!"

"Fred… I had to _push from the other side_!" George declared with a haunted look on his face.

"I'll admit it was a bit of a problem. A big problem. An enormous, rock-hard problem that can shake the very earth and split the heavens with its might. It was an undeniably incredible, unmatched problem, but it wasn't a big deal. Aside from my scrapes."

"First of all, it isn't an unmatched problem. We're identical. Second of all, I never wanted to be anywhere near your problem, let alone two socks away from _touching_ it," George declared, looking slightly green.

"You know, that's a good point. You realize you're basically touching my problem every time you 'use the toilet,' right?"

George froze, his horrified gaze locked on his brother. "Don't say it. Please, don't. If you say it, it can never be unsaid."

"You said it yourself: we're identical," Fred announced with a grin. "So our problems are pretty much the same. That means every time you solve your problem, you're basically solving mine, too. If you really-" He cut off, suddenly leaning to the side and enthusiastically rainbowing on the floor. The act was perfectly synchronized with George's. "Oh, Merlin! I just realized what I was saying!"

"I warned you," George mumbled, wiping a bit of technicolor fluid from the corner of his mouth. "I told you not to say it… You didn't listen."

Fred tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling with tears running down his cheeks. "I- I'm gonna think about that every time. I- I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to solve my problem again!"

"Be strong, Fred! We'll be fine," George reassured his brother, clapping a hand down on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We can overcome this! Remember, shake the heavens! Our problems are so great that they defy the understanding of mere mortals!"

"Yeah, you guys definitely have some big problems. As much as I'm enjoying listening to you two talk about playing with yourselves, I'm really close to rainbowing right now. Fred/George slash is _not_ what I needed to think about.," Hermione breathed weakly. "Seriously, just stop…"

"What's slash?" Neville asked curiously.

Neville, Hermione and Harry all turned white as sheets, pitched to one side and rainbowed onto the floor.

"Thanks, Orchid," Harry mumbled.

Hermione coughed a few times and wiped a few blobs of rainbow off her mouth. " _Please_ warn me so I can get far enough away!" she gasped. "And what's wrong with you two? I thought you could understand her."

"We can…" Harry said weakly. "That's… kind of the problem."

Neville nodded. "She was… through. Very, very through. At least it wasn't Snape this time…"

"O~h, I know what'll make you feel better!" Angel exclaimed. "Flower, what's sapphism?"

Hermione just barely managed managed to dive in time. Vaulting the puddles of rainbow, she somehow launched herself over Fred's table, grabbed the edge as she passed and slammed herself into the floor at his side.

Harry and Neville locked up, their faces turning shades of red that Hermione decided meant they owed her two knuts and three knuts respectively. Harry quickly whipped open his robes and yanked the waistband of his pants away from his body. Looking down into the gap, he sighed.

"It's still there…"

"That felt really, really weird…" Neville muttered.

"She was through, I take it?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded.

Hermione sighed. "You know, sometimes I'm glad I can't understand her," she muttered. Almost as soon as she said it, a look of realization crossed her face. "Wait. She 'talks' with controlled hallucinations. Does that mean you… uh… felt…"

Harry and Neville gave weak nods.

"Oh dear."

Angel, meanwhile, was frowning at them as she studied their faces. Overall, their reactions weren't quite like she'd been expected. The embarrassment there was unexpected, and the physical responses were off. It was almost as if…

Her eyes widened.

"Uh, this is kind of a weird question, but… are you kids or something?" she asked, turning towards Hermione.

The girl gave her a confused look. "What?"

"It's kind of an easy question…" Angel said.

"Yeah, I know. It's just… Yeah, we are. Can't you tell just by looking at us? I mean, you call Harry 'My Boy' and everything..."

"Mm, most people would be 'boy' to me. You're human-people, and human-people don't get very old. It'd be different if you were pointy-ears or shorties, butt..." Angel muttered with a frown, "And people in the Other Place can't learn magic until they're almost all grown up. It fries their brains if they're not all ready to adult all the time. I thought..."

"But… we look like kids."

"Do you?" Angel asked curiously. "In the Other Place there's lots of things that pretend to be things they aren't. Usually to eat you. And anyway, I'm a whole different thingy than you. Can you tell how old all the other everythings are by looking at them? Can you tell how old me and Flower are?"

"How old _are_ you?" Harry asked curiously.

Angel froze for half a second.

"Harry, you can't ask a lady that. It's very rude, you know," Hermione sighed. "Honestly, what are you thinking?"

"I just-"

"Mio's right. That's a dangerous question. Especially when you're talking about someone that's not human," George agreed.

Fred nodded. "It kind goes with not asking about where they're from. Just asking about anything before you summoned them at all is kind of a no-no. Remember: most of them left for a reason."

"So… you _are_ kids, then?"

Hermione nodded.

"O~h, so that's why. I thought I just wasn't pretty here..." Angel muttered quietly.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing? I was just being a silly kitty and got all worried about nothing."

"Right. You know, I'm pretty sure I'm too tired to care at this point," Hermione declared. "I don't even want to know what time it is…"

George paused in his raiding. "It's 4:07, 4:13, 4:02, 8:19 and 4:03. Damn. forgot to wind that one…"

"You know, when someone says they don't want to know something, it's generally because they don't want to know."

" _I_ wouldn't have told you the time even _if_ I had a watch. Which I don't," Fred complained.

"At least they filled this new cupboard for us. It's all fresh since all the other ingredients burned down with the old Potions room," Neville said happily. "We should be good and take it all. We don't want to waste anything when we verify the room. You could even say we're doing them a favor by saving the ingredients."

"We're verifying the room? We can't verify the room!" Fred protested.

"What? Why not? I want to verify the room!" Neville insisted, earning surprised looks from Hermione and Harry.

Fred pointed at the cabinet. "No one'll see the mysteriously vanished ingredients if we burn it all down."

"Fred, the joke's getting far we've stuff these things full of novelty snakes, a cream pie on a spring and a pissed off and possibly rabid raccoon."

Angel pouted and whined, "You owe me lunch…"

"I know, Angel. I know," Harry soothed, standing on his toes to rub her head. She leaned into his hand, nearly knocking him over. "I mean, isn't the joke getting old. And… are you purring?"

"I'm a kitty. I always purr when you pet me," she declared, looking at him like he'd somehow missed something incredibly obvious.

Harry withdrew his hand, earning a slight whine. "You're not normally so big. Or on two feet. Or human. It's that last part that makes it kind of weird."

"I'll pet her if you don't want to, Harry!" Fred offered. There was a surprised gasp and the faint sound of a small scuffle from behind his table. "Damn it, Mio. An eleven-year-old girl should _not_ have a right hook like that! What the hell do they feed you?"

"How come I'm the only one that gets called something silly?" Hermione demanded. "It's not fair that I have to have a new name when you don't!"

"Neville is already Nev. Or Lord Nev, but that's not really shorter," Harry pointed out. "And it's hard to make a name out of Harry. I guess I could be Ri, but we already have between zero and two of those."

Hermione pointed at the twins. "Well, what about them?"

"Oh, we already have nicknames, Mio."

"Yeah. You've been using them right along."

"I'm Fred 'George' Weasley," George announced.

"And I'm George 'Fred' Weasley."

Their younger friends stared.

"Wait, you mean we've been calling you the wrong names?" Harry asked.

"Yup."

"Pretty much."

"So _George_ is the filthy pervert?"

"Wow. Nailed me right in the feelings…"

"She's not exactly wrong, brother."

"No, I mean she called me George, George. _George_! Who'd want to be a George?" Fred protested.

George sighed, "You _are_ George."

"Not anymore," Fred proclaimed primly. "I upgraded."

"Right. Anyway, it was supposed to be a bit of a laugh. We switched the summer before our first year, just to see how long it took for someone to figure it out," George explained.

"Needless to say no one ever did. Mighta been different if we saw Bill or Charlie more, but..." Fred continued. "Don't forget the flea gallbladder, George. Getting those out must be a fun job..."

"Your own family didn't know they were calling you the wrong name!? That's awful!" Harry growled.

"It is," Hermione agreed. "We should verify them a little. That'd teach them."

"We're not verifying their family," Neville sighed. Aftera brief moment of thought he continued, "We aren't, right? Because if we are, I really need to start figuring out how I'm gonna make sure you still have a house afterward…"

"Aww… aren't our bloodthirsty little firsties just the cutest?" Fred cooed.

"I don't know if you should call an eleven-year-old incendiary weapon cute, Fred. I lean more towards awesome, myself," George corrected. "Do we even need a jug of unicorn piss? I don't think we do…"

"It's there, right? Take it," Harry prompted.

"That's a good point. I… Harry, put the unicorn piss in the sack. If you really feel the need to steal things, steal them out of the cabinet."

"'Kay."

"Anyway, we're not setting anyone on fire-"

"What? Anyone!?" Hermione protested.

"Uh, right. Allow me to correct myself. We're not setting our family on fire," George clarified. "I'd have to say the chances of you guys setting _someone_ on fire are probably higher than most people would be comfortable with."

"It's a good thing we're not most people. Of course, it helps that we're not gonna be the ones on fire," Fred hesitated. "Uh, we're _not_ gonna be the ones on fire, right?"

"We almost poured a river of magma on our own heads. What makes you think you're any safer?" Hermione pointed out.

"Note to self: don't upset the pyromaniacs…"

"They probably wouldn't punish you by verifying you unless you _really_ annoyed them. If they set you on fire it'd probably be an accident, or because they're bored. You're more probably likely to end up naked and wearing eight kilograms of stolen jewelry in the middle of the Great Hall if you get them mad," Neville reassured them.

"I can live with that. Just make sure you cover my nipplse. The left one's a bit lower than the right, and I'm very self-conscious about it. Hey! A bottle of wet dreams. I always wondered how they harvest these…" George muttered.

"Yeah… We should definitely take that," Fred advised.

"I really, really don't want to know what you're planning to do with those..." Hermione groaned.

Fred gave her a confused look. "You've got a problem with rigging it to explode and having Headwig drop it in the Hufflepuff dorms?"

"That's not nearly as bad as I was expecting," Hermione admitted.

"Uh, aren't those kind of rare?" Neville asked

Fred giggled. "They won't be in a year or two, Lord Nev."

Neville gave him a confused look.

"Just ignore him, Lord Nev. They're not exactly rare, but they're kind of exotic. Emotional essences are more of a novelty than anything. These are primarily… recreational. Why, what's up?"

"Well, there's gotta be something we can do with it, right? It's' something we can't get really easy. It kind of seems like a waste to blow it up."

"You're right," Fred agreed. "A bottle of phantasmal lust essence is a weird thing to have lying around. I'm not even sure why Snape would-"

Everyone in the room went pale.

"L- let's just… put it in the bag," Hermione suggested. "We'll figure out what to do with it later. After washing it. Thoroughly. With fire."

George tossed the bottle into the sack with a disgusted look on his face. "So, who wants to verify my hand? Go for it, Harry. I'm okay with second-degree burns. Third-degree if you think it's necessary. You're the expert."

"Don't be so dramatic. Just use the Sanitizing Spell," Hermione sighed.

"Dramatic?" George leaned forward and cupped Hermione's cheek in his tainted hand. Her exasperated expression shifted to one of horror as he slowly wiped his hand across her face. "You're right. We shouldn't be dramatic. We should- Urk!"

George hit the floor, both hands clutching his crotch.

Hermione stood over him, one hand slowly withdrawing her shears. "You're right, George. We shouldn't be dramatic. We should be very calm and make ourselves clean."

"Hey, now! Those are for sheep and cougars!" George gasped out in protest.

"But you're dirty, George. I'm sure you don't like that. That's why we have to get rid of all the bad things," Hermione calmly explained, opening and closing the shears. There was a wide grin on her face as she stared down at him. " _All_ the bad things."

"You guys _do_ realize that even if he was using those, they wouldn't do anything until the middle of the night, right? They don't work that well if you just whip it out and spank it on the bottle," Fred said reasonably.

"Oh, come on!" Hermione protested. "He was _this_ far from splashing water in the boat."

George slowly climbed to his feet and brushed his robes off. "You get the _really_ small treats now."

"You mean these treats?" Harry asked curiously. He held the bag up to the light and examined it. "They seriously make first-year treats? Huh, they are pretty small."

"It's not like I don't understand, but do you really have to steal everything I try to carry?"

"Probably," Harry said with a nod. He held up a second bag. "I took this one too."

"Those _are_ bigger…" Hermione observed with wide eyes.

"Hey, they're pretty good, too," Neville announced. "They taste like… I dunno… but they're good."

"They taste like people, Nev. Firstie treats are people," Fred whispered.

"Really? Huh. I didn't know we tasted so good. Oh, the bag says this one is eyeball-flavored. Um… what's this? Spleen? Is it just me, or does 'spleen' come up a lot."

"That's not the part of you that comes up, Nev," Fred giggled.

George grinned triumphantly. "Ha. Now you're sorry, aren't you? I bet you wish you hadn't' been such a big meanie now!"

"Okay. One: big meany? Really? Two: why would I want a snack made of people? Three: they're Harry's now, and he's already given me a tongue-flavored on," Hermione popped the treat into her mouth, chewed for a moment, then frowned. "It don't taste like anything," she complained.

"Uh, yeah. Have you ever tasted your tongue?" George pointed out. "And of course they're not _really_ made of people. The bag's just for freaking people out... I'm going to pretend you didn't all look a little disappointed when I said that."

"It hardly seems worth worrying about once you've already eaten one, and knowing what a person tastes like would be an interesting bit of trivia. I'm somewhat sad to be denied that knowledge," Hermione announced as she popped another treat into her mouth. She eyed Harry speculatively. "And now I'm all curious about what an eye tastes like."

"Are you thinking about tackling me and trying to lick my eyeball?" Harry asked curiously.

"Y- no! Of course not."

"You can if you want. It'll probably feel gross, but it's not like it'll hurt me," Harry declared. "But I get to try too. I want to know if tongue really tastes like nothing."

Hermione blushed so hard she went right past red and straight into the ultraviolet spectrum. Well, not really, of course. But she was trying hard enough to get an 'A' for effort.

George hit the ground again, this time laughing his ass off.

"Look, as entertaining and disturbing as watching your fledgling romance is, let's wrap this up," Fred suggested. "I really need to hit a urinal, and listening to two eleven-year-olds planning a session of 'taste mine, taste yours' is a bit disturbing, even by my standards. And believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are to find out I have standards."

George stood, wiping a tear off his cheek. "Just use the cabinet, Fred. We're taking everything with us, and there's no sense leaving it empty."

"George. You know I can't go with everyone watching," Fred hissed.

Angel gave him a puzzled look. "I don't think you have any problems when I watch you…"

"..."

"Yeah. That's a thing she does, I guess…" Harry muttered. "A really, really creepy thing."

"Humans are so weird about stu~pid things. Everything has to pee! Why does it make you all cringy and stuff? It's perfectly natural," Angel declared. She pressed a finger to her lips and hummed thoughtfully. Looking at Fred she continued, "Except the finger puppets. That's kinda strange."

The three first-years turned their questioning and creeped-out eyes towards Fred.

"What!? It helps me relax!" he declared defensively.

"Has the Shining Knight managed to save Lady Fair from the Dark Master yet?" George asked curiously.

"He probably _would_ have if he hadn't lost his sword," Angel snickered. "What kind of dummy loses their claws?"

Fred glared at her. "Hey! That wasn't his fault! He was running from the Giant Dragon in the Maze of Doom." He turned back to his brother and continued, "She's right, though. It was pretty dumb of him. And it's been slow going now that a lot of scenes have three or four characters. It's kind of a hassle, even if I use all three hands."

"Uh, Fred? You only have two hands," Neville pointed out.

"Of course I have three. I mean, sure, one of them only has one finger, but it counts. Well, I guess it has three if you count the b-"

"A~nd, that's enough of that," George declared. "Let's just give my idiot brother some space so he can… Wait. Fred, how do you use the toilet if you have a puppet on your…?"

Fred looked at his brother, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… if there's a thing on your thing… it's in the way, right?"

"Of course not. Why the heck would it be in the way, George?" Fred sighed. "Honestly, we're thirteen. I'd think you'd know how to use the toilet."

"You know what? I just realized I probably don't want to know. Let's all just stand outside so we don't have to see how whatever's gonna happen happens," George declared, ushering the first-years out of the room.

Just after they shut the door, a faint tremor ran through the floor.

"Um, what was that?" Neville asked cautiously. "I mean, is that something that should worry us?"

George made a dismissive gesture. "Nah, that happens sometimes. You should feel it at home after mom tries to make Mexican. Sometimes I swear…" George trailed off with a look of horror on his face. Whirling, he threw open the door. "Fred!? What the hell!?"

The other Weasley was standing just in front of the cabinet, buttoning his pants. "Dude! Privacy!"

"What the hell did you… do…?"

George, Harry, Hermione and Neville all stared at the open cabinet in horror.

"Fred? I thought you said you had to use a urinal…" Neville muttered weakly.

"Any port in a storm, Lord Nev," Fred said sagely. "I shoulda saved that one for urinal #4, though. Woulda blown that filthy bastard outta the wall!"

"What the hell have you been eating!?" George demanded.

"The same stuff you guys have, obviously."

"Fred? We haven't had corn since we got here," Harry pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure we haven't had… whatever those purple things are."

"Is it even possible for one person to contain all that?" Hermione asked in a hoarse whisper. "I mean… the _cabinet_ can barely contain it."

"Brother, you might want to- is that a dead _gerbil_!?" George screamed.

Fred sighed and shook his head sadly. "The poor little guy. Must've run out of the wall at just the wrong time. Man, I hope that thing wasn't someone's familiar..."

"I- I think he's still moving," Harry stated weakly.

They all paused to observe the poor rodent.

"So… who wants to save the - _NOT IT_ \- the gerbil?" George asked

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not it… oh, vasco…"

George patted the younger boy on the shoulder. "Come on, Harry. It won't be bad. Just pretend he's a fudge bar and steal it. Err… maybe not a fudge bar Probably anything _but_ a fudge bar, actually."

"That doesn't count! That doesn't count at all! George said it too early!" Harry protested.

Hermione huffed, "Don't try to get out of it, Harry. Just save the poor thing."

"You're just saying that because you're afraid you'll lose if we do it again!" Harry accused.

"Of course I am. Now do it! Just look at the poor thing. Look at his little, pleading eyes. He's saying, 'Save me, Harry. Please save me!' and you're just ignoring him."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure he's saying, 'Oh for the love of god, I'm drowning in the Brown Sea' right now," Fred contested.

George shook his head. "Either way, just save the… gerbil..." he paused, carefully searching the gerbil-free cabinet. "Harry? Where's the gerbil?"

"I don't know, George. He must be somewhere around here, right?" Harry replied. There was a disgusted look on his face as he violently scrubbed at his hand with a pair of boxers.

"Those are mine, aren't they?" George asked. "You stole my boxers and wiped all that... ugh."

Harry grinned at him. "Of course not. Do I look like someone that could steal your boxers?"

George sighed and turned an accusing glare towards Hermione. "You stole my boxers so he could wipe crap all over them? Really, Mio?"

"Actually, she's had them since we raided the runes classroom. I just decided they were worth repossessing now."

"Why did you steal my underwear?" George demanded.

"Because it wouldn't be fair if I didn't. I stole everyone else's, after all. I just wanted to see how long it took you to notice," she giggled. "Here, you can have the rest back." She reached into her robe and searched around for a moment, then frowned. "Harry!"

Harry held up a handful of clothing. "What? Should you really be mad I stole your stolen underwear?"

"Wait. Wouldn't that mean you knew she took your boxers?" Neville asked.

"Well, yeah. But I haven't exactly had a chance to put them back on," Harry answered. He examined the fistful of cloth carefully. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that's not my underwear."

"It's not. I took it off a third-year Slytherin," Hermione confirmed. "You've been wearing them since we left the Great Hall after dinner. Well, you were wearing them."

"These are kind of nice… is this silk?"

"I think so," Hermione agreed. "I'm not exactly an underwear expert, though."

"I don't know if i should worry about the pockets in my clothes or the clothes around my pockets…" George muttered.

"Both," Hermione and Harry replied together.

"You guys are making it hard to tell who belongs to what, you know…" George complained.

Neville sighed. "Well, at least that explains Fred's thong…"

"Uh… actually…" Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "That… wasn't me."

"Don't you judge me!" Fred yelled in response to the accusing stares. "It's Thursday!"

"Tuesday," Neville corrected.

"Oh. Close enough. Any day can be Thong Thursday if you really try!"

George groaned. "I don't even care… As long as I'm wearing the same amount of clothes I started with and don't have anything insanely dangerous or nasty in my pockets, I don't care…" George's eye twitched. "Harry, why is one of my pockets moving?"

"Oh, _that's_ where that went! I knew I put it down around here somewhere."

"Please remove the filthy rodent from my robes, Harry. He's crawling around in there, and I swear I can feel him smearing… filth all over me."

"That's probably because he is," Fred declared helpfully.

"Just… get it out. Please."

"Okay! You get to pick who gets it next!" Harry happily declared.

George instantly found himself on the wrong end to three intense death-glares.

"You're a terrible person, Harry," George declared. "You're a terrible person and I love you for it. You make me so proud that I'd love to hug you, but I'm afraid the force of our manly embrace would crush poor Mr. Yur Rekt Um."

"You named the crap-gerbil? Why would you name the crap-gerbil?" Hermione inquired.

"Because I follow a very strict rule involving this sort of thing," George declared. "No one gets into my pants unless I at least know their name. Now, as a completely unrelated segue, does anyone know if it's safe to cast Scourgify on your crotch?"

"That's not a good idea," Neville cautioned. "My uncle said he tried it before and it made his head bleed for a month. He said it didn't even kill the crabs. I guess he got attacked by a bunch of crabs and they pinched him on the head while he was busy trying to kill the ones on his legs, maybe?"

"Sorry, George. Would a Potion Pop make you feel better?" Harry asked, holding out a couple of the questionable confections.

Fred pointed and shouted, "Ha! _That's_ where those went. I'm honestly not sure why that surprises me at this point."

"Sorry. Neville said I should start sticking them in random people's pockets to see if they eat them."

"I did not!" Neville protested. "I said to stick them on people that don't have any candy or gum. After a few people gain 200 kg they'll figure it out and carry more good stuff."

"That's _not_ how it works. You're the one that said that in the first place!" Hermione protested.

"You were talking about _jewelry_. I'm talking about _food_. They're clearly quite different."

"Well, people would probably just stop eating the pops," Hermione pointed out. "If anything, they might start carrying less candy because they're afraid it'll turn into a trap."

Harry and Neville exchanged horrified looks.

"We've made a horrible mistake," Neville declared.

"It's okay, Nev. It's okay," Harry said soothingly. "They won't stop carrying good things because of one pop, right? _Right_!?"

"Dear God… the horror," came a hoarse whisper.

"See, Harry! Even King thinks it's a bad… Wait. King?"

George turned towards the back corner of the room. King was sitting behind a desk there, his face an ashen grey. A paperback book was lying on the desk in front of him. It had obviously fall out of his limp hands.

"Oh. King, man, I completely forgot you were here. You've gotta get your nose out of your book and say something now and then," George reproached. "What's the point of being here if- Oh. Were you here the whole time?"

King slowly nodded.

"Like, even for the…"

King nodded again.

"Oh. That's not good. Fred, fix those hinges. You guys help him. Yur, the girls are on watch at the end of the hall. Go tell 'em we're packing it up. We've gotta get King somewhere he can have a lay-down."

A clean gerbil exited George's pant leg and hoofed it out of the room.

Hermione sighed, "I'm not even going to ask…"

* * *

A/N:

As promised, here's a bunch of words that more or less mean something when you put them all together. Yay!

Seriously, though, I'm pretty happy to be caught up again. I'm in the middle of writing chapter 21 right now, and I'll be coming back to have a final look at chapter 19 when I finish it. I really can't even guess at a timeframe, but it shouldn't take nearly as long to post as this did.

For those who missed the note, I fell way behind because I scrapped several complete chapters. I like to be a ways ahead of what I'm writing, so it took a while to get back up to par.

What happened was this: I made the mistake of trying to force the plot back in the direction I had originally intended it to go. Unfortunately, this story has become a very organic sort of thing. It's just kind of growing in whatever direction it goes, and trying to force it back it into shape resulted in chapters that, quite frankly, sucked.

I won't make that mistake again. While I am still following a set of predefined milestones and points that make up the greater story, everything in between them is kind of up in the air. Honestly, a lot of the things I think work the best and were the funniest are things I didn't originally intend.

Like the screaming owl, for example. Everyone loves the screaming owl.

Luckily, the shit chapters weren't a total loss. There was some decent stuff I'll be using later.

I really don't have many thoughts on this chapter, other than the fact that it must suck to be a 11 / 12 year old boy with Angel and Orchid flouncing around as naked as they can get away with. That shit's confusing enough as it is, and it should be clear Hermione's the only one with any real sense of sexuality.

Next chapter, in no particular order:

A contract with someone who isn't a demon

A contract with someone who just might be a demon

Familiars: nature's garbage disposals

At least one monster lurking in the shadows

Three things that are pretty obviously important

A few more things that aren't quite obvious

A few more that seem obvious, but aren't important

A hell of a lot of things that just aren't important

A headache on the horizon for Dumbledore

And

The beginning of a kind of warped idea I literally just had.

Oh, and here's a glossary thing, in case you care.

* * *

 **Firehole Gelly**

A Weasley original, Firehole Gelly was the result of a noble quest to craft high explosives using nothing but the ingredients growing in the field out back. The result was this flavorful wizard napalm which, frighteningly enough, is a lot safer than what they were going for. Luckily, the twins decided playing with a thick, sticky incendiary gel was almost as much fun as leaving a twenty-foot crater in the backyard and called it good.

After several batches went missing, they set up a trap to catch the culprit. To there shock, they discovered that the lawn gnomes were making off with it and using it as a snack at lawn gnome keggers. Much to George's shock, he discovered the snack's unfortunate tendency to leave explosive charges in toilets after eating a rather large jar of it.

Firehole Gelly comes in fourteen flavors. Apple, peach and cherry are the most common, but several other fruity concoctions are available. Not grape, though. We don't talk about grape. Ever.

 **Shoving Spell**

One of those fun 'prank' spells, the Shoving Spell is something like an extraordinarily weak banishing spell. All it's really good for is giving someone a good push directly away from the caster. The push becomes more powerful as more magic is put into the spell, but the power:push ratio falls off pretty quick. This makes it fairly hard to do much more than slam someone into a wall with bone-crunching force.

 **Incineration Spell**

A weak fire spell made for torching small bits of trash into oblivion. It was originally created as a way to dispose of snack wrappers without getting up. It only took 22 years for someone to realized you could use it to get rid of other kinds of paper, and another four for the revelation that you could use it on things that weren't paper.

The incantation means "burn to nothing" in Latin according to the finest free online translator money can buy. For all I know it might actually mean "Your mother's a whore" in Swedish. Either way, it's no worse than Rowling's faux-Latin crap.

 **Incineration Spell (Potter Custom)**

A bizarrely miscast Incineration Spell that somehow weaponized a bit of harmless magic. Harry's personalized version results in a completely useless trickle of heat. Unfortunately for the safety and welfare of those around him, he can hold the spell and accumulate the heat on the tip of his wand. He can't move or do much more than talk while doing so, but a little over seven minutes and it's instant volcano time.

 **Sanitizing Spell**

The aptly named Sanitizing Spell is pretty much the wizarding version of hand sanitizer. It gets rid of all the ickies and, unlike the standard Scourgify, won't make your head bleed. Of course, you wouldn't want to roll your head around in hand sanitizer either, so I'd skip this one too.

The incantation might mean "purify" or something. Hell if I know.


	19. The Line In The Sand

Something Familiar

Chapter 19: "The Line In The Sand"

AKA: "Bigger Than A Breadbox, Heavier Than A Brick, And Might Raise An Undead Army"

* * *

Most people didn't really think about it, but there was a _lot_ of the castle that wasn't in active use.

To put it in the simplest terms, Hogwarts was dying. Shutting down part by part, she was sealing more and more of herself away as it was no longer needed. What had previously been open corridors became blank brick walls, the space on the other side inaccessible by means conventional or otherwise. Over the past few centuries she had been dwindling away, and now was but a shadow of what she once had been.

Looking from the outside, it would seem like a little less than a third of the castle was in use. Looking from the inside, the number was considerably lower.

This particular classroom was located near the end of a corridor that had once lead to the now-unused southern face of the castle. It was, in fact, the last door before the hall abruptly terminated. It was one of the many facilities that were close enough to the main areas that they hadn't been sealed, but still went unused.

Judging by the looks of it, it'd probably been centuries since the room had served any purpose. It was full of old, decaying furniture that the castle's residents had been too lazy to remove when they'd vacated the room. Various piles of metal and wood were scattered across the room, interspersed by an occasional desk or chair that'd somehow escaped the ravages of time. On the far wall, a broken blackboard sagged in its frame.

Even the door was slightly off-kilter, scraping across the stone floor as it opened to admit Blaise Zabini. He quickly slid into the room and eased the door back shut. Oddly enough, the thick layer of dust coating the floor followed it, filling the area it'd swept clean. In just a few seconds there was no indication it had ever been opened.

Blaise reached into his robes and withdrew and irregular white stone. Rubbing his thumb across its smooth surface several times prompted it to produce a pale, silver light. It was just bright enough for him to safely make his way into the center of the room, dust filling his footprints as he went. He stopped and raised the stone higher, peering through the darkness as best he could.

Had something gone wrong? After three weeks of waiting, the other boy should have been chomping at the bit.

"Being late to a meeting is not a good way to begin a business relationship, Lord Potter," he muttered.

The shadows beside him asked, "That's not me, is it?"

Blaise nearly jumped out of his skin. He stumbled backwards in a panic, nearly tripping and throwing himself into a mass of jagged metal in his haste. Catching his balance, he rubbed his stone furiously to call forth a brighter light and held it high.

Harry was sitting on one of the few remaining intact desks not ten feet away, looking at him curiously. "That's kind of neat. What is is?" he asked, pointing at the stone.

"It's called a torch stone. They're quite useful. The provide discrete, variable levels of light and are pocket-sized for- Wait, nevermind that! How long have you been sitting there?" Blaise demanded.

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes, maybe? I would have said something, but you looked like you were thinking…"

"You've been sitting in a pitch black room for fifteen minutes?"

Harry frowned, staring at the far wall. His eyes darted back and forth as they traced the seams between the bricks. "It's not that dark, is it?" he asked, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

For some reason he'd been getting strange headaches the past week.

"It is a room with no windows, no torches and a closed door, Lord Potter. It stands to reason that light would be quite scarce here," Blaise pointed out.

Harry scratched his head. "Oh. Weird. So, why do you keep calling me Lord Potter? It's kind of strange. No one else calls me that."

"That is because even our pureblood brethren no longer see the value in showing proper respect," Blaise responded with a frown. "You are the current head of a pureblood house, and should be addressed as such unless you indicate otherwise."

"Oh. Uh, I'm indicating otherwise, then. Just call me Harry. The other one just sounds strange."

"I agree that there is little value in putting on airs if we are to associate. Feel free to call me Blaise, Harry. Not that you couldn't anyway, given our relative status, but it seems polite to offer."

"Sure. Thanks for… this. I was starting to worry Snow forgot to tell you."

"Not in this case, but that is indeed a valid concern," Blaise sighed. "I begin to suspect my familiar's worth does not lay in her intellectual abilities."

Harry rubbed the back of his head in an embarrassed gesture. "Sorry… I can't really think of anything to say to that that isn't mean..." he muttered.

"Understandable. However, I simply thought it wise to consider my options. Having done that, I've decided to at least find out what it is you want."

"I was hoping… You know about money and stuff, right? I mean, you were saying all those things about selling Draco's underwear…"

"I'm not sure I like how you put that, but yes," Blaise answered. "To say I've had an exhaustive education would be putting it mildly. Mother has gone to… unconventional lengths to ensure I have the knowledge and maturity I need. Was there something specific you needed assistance with? My consultation rates are quite reasonable."

"Well, that's the problem. I need to know how to steal my own money," Harry declared.

Blaise stared at him. "What?"

"The headmaster has all my money. I need it, but I don't think he'd give it to me for what I want."

"I see. It makes a bit more sense when you put it that way. Still, your lack of funds is an issue," Blaise said thoughtfully. "Will you agree to pay my standard rates at a later time, plus a reasonable amount of interest on the deferred payments?"

"I… think so? I'm not really sure if I have enough money…"

"You do," Blaise replied without hesitation.

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Okay, then? I guess?"

"Good enough. I will help you to the best of my ability. You can be assured of absolute confidentiality. Betraying a client once is far less profitable than ensuring their continued patronage,after all," Blaise declared with a nod. "Now, what exactly are you attempting to accomplish? The means could be considerably different depending on the desired end."

Harry shifted in his seat. Even in the half-light he was little more than a vaguely-defined blob. Blaise had to suppress a shudder as he straightened. It looked for all the world like the shadows themselves were moving, staring at him with green eyes.

"I want to unleash a reign of chaos and confusion that will bring this school to its knees."

The sudden declaration caught Blaise completely off balance. He gaped at the other boy in shock, eyes and mouth open wide.

"Either that or play a bunch of pranks and mess with people. We haven't really decided which, yet," Harry continued.

Blaise made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone snorting as they tried to hold back laughter. "I… I see… That would… be a little difficult to accomplish under… the headmaster's supervision," he managed to choke out.

"Are you okay?"

"I- I'm fine. Just… I'm fine. Normally I'd consider giving you a discount for something so interesting, but I'm afraid you're already getting the family rate…"

Harry gave him a confused look. "Family rate? Why would I be getting a family rate?"

"You don't know?" Blaise asked in surprise. "Until the end of the 19th century our families were quite close. Intermarriages were very common. I'm something of a cousin, though so far removed it likely doesn't count. We'd most likely be closer, had your three-times-great grandfather not severed our relationship. I was quite surprised when Snow said you wished to talk to me. This is most likely the first time a Potter and Zabini have spoken directly in over a century."

"What? But… if they were close, why did they stop talking? Did something happen?"

Blaise shrugged. "People can be quite fickle. Lord Edward Potter decided to… I suppose you could call it rebranding. He decided to change your family's image and severed ties with anyone that didn't fit it."

"I don't understand. Why would he do that? Why didn't your family fit?"

"It's long been rumored that the Zabini are engage in what you might call 'shady business,'" Blaise replied with a shrug. "Lord Potter found those rumors objectionable."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Do you?"

A long moment passed as Blaise silently studied his companion. Finally he shrugged again and said, "Yes. We are involved in the smuggling and trafficking of illicit wares. Nothing harmful or morally objectionable. My family has strict rules against that. Anyone who cannot turn a profit without resorting to those base measures is unworthy of the name Zabini."

"Seriously? That's it?"

This time it was Blaise's turn to wear a curious expression. "That doesn't bother you?"

"You're not hurting anyone, right?"

"No. As I said, there are many things we are forbidden from dealing in," Blaise replied. "I can obtain a list for you, if you would like."

Harry shook his head. "No, that's okay. If you're not hurting anyone, I don't care."

"And you'll simply take my word for it?" Blaise queried, raising an eyebrow.

Harry leaned forward, the move half-hidden in the shadows. Blaise was once again struck with the eerie feeling he was staring at something that wasn't quite human. The only thing he could see clearly was Harry's eyes, and he wasn't quite sure whether they were looking at him or _through_ him.

"I don't think you're lying."

Despite himself, Blaise sighed in relief.

He'd had a front row seat for Draco's sudden introduction to the Summoning Chamber floor. The gleeful grin on Angel's face as she held her claws over the boy's eyes was something he'd probably never forget. The cat was not just capable of extreme acts of violence, but had clearly been enjoying herself. Her subsequent displays had only further proven the point.

Blaise couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have a piece of _that_ inside of you.

"Your… your trust is quite valuable to me. Rest assured that there are few things that could convince me to discard it. _Very_ few things… Probably not even pointy things… Yours are probably pointier," Blaise muttered.

"Yeah, probably. They're probably a _lot_ pointier," Harry agreed. "If I ever find anything pointer than my pointies, I'm running in the other direction as fast as I can."

"That would probably be the best course of action," Blaise concurred. "If you're sure you're alright with changing your house's stance and-"

"Do you know what I did this morning, Blaise? I burnt down the Potions room. Again. I burnt down the Potions room _again_. This is the third time. I've burnt down three Potions rooms, Blaise. What's my house's stance on burning down schools?"

"That was you?"

"Yup."

"And… the courtyard?"

"Guilty."

"Dungeons?"

"Indirectly."

"The second-floor west wizard's room? All four times?"

"#4 won't die. We're trying acid next."

"The north wing tearoom?"

"We're still trying to figure that out. We didn't even _know_ there was a tearoom there until the staff started screaming about putting it out…"

"I see. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised after what Snow told me," Blaise muttered with a faint smile. He thought for a moment. "Lord Edward Potter would be quite against it."

"Well, Lord Edward Potter did some things I don't like, so I guess we're even. It's not like he's around to complain about it," Harry paused for a moment. "Uh, he's _not_ around to complain about it, right? Like, there's no Zombie Lord Edward Potter around?"

"Harry, why would he be a zombie?"  
"I don't know. Why would a window try to eat me?" Harry countered.

"I'm not sure," Blaise admitted. "But if I had to guess, I'd assume it had something to do with a Cauldron Cake."

Harry gave him an obviously impressed look. "Wow. You're good."

"...wait, seriously? A window seriously tried to eat you because of a Cauldron Cake?" Blaise demanded in a disbelieving tone. "I was just blurting out the most horrible thing I could think of."

"A Cauldron Cake is the most horrible thing you can think of?"

"Yes."

"Good call."

"In answer to your question, I'm fairly certain Lord Edward Potter is not a zombie," Blaise reassured him. "I'm not aware of any zombie Potters, actually."

"Oh. Cool. What about ghosts?"

"No ghosts."

"Mummies?"

"You're good there, too."

"Cylons?"

"I don't know what that is."

"No."

"Liches?"

"I certainly hope not."

"Borg?"

"The Anti-Assimilation Charm has been around since the 1700's."

"I regret asking that. Inhuman monsters posing as humans?"

"You know at least two of those. They were both sitting in your lap and stealing the bacon you were trying to eat just this morning."

"I wish Angel would be a kitty when she wanted to do that. Having someone bigger than you in your lap makes it hard to eat, and it's really strange to watch someone feed their clothes. But it's a good point. One-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people-eaters?"

"They've been extinct for 450 years. Anyway, why would one of your ancestors be one?"

"Just checking. Vampires?"

"No."

"Vampire-zombies?"

"Not since the 17th century."

"What about- Wait, what?"

"Lord Barrett Potter was a very well-respected vampire-zombie. He led your house for 107 years, bringing it a great deal of prestige and prosperity," Blaise explained.

"Huh. Is he still alive...ish? Is he still around?" asked hopefully.

Blaise shook his head sadly. "No. I'm afraid he died in a tragic sunbathing accident."

"What kind of sunbathing accident?"

"He went sunbathing," Blaise replied. "He was quite drunk at the time, but some believe it was the result of a zombie-vampire plot. The vampire-zombies and zombie-vampires were deeply embroiled in a blood feud at the time."

"One of these days I'll figure out I just shouldn't ask questions. The answers usually just hurt my brain," Harry sighed. "Why do you even know that?"

"Knowledge of the past is quite valuable and I must admit I rather enjoy historical accounts. I possess a book featuring the twenty-five most bizarre prominent figures in British history. Lord Barrett Potter was number twenty-two."

"This time I'm gonna do the smart thing and not ask."

Blaise nodded sagely. "Sometimes good judgement is worth far more than knowledge. I've only made it up to number seven, and I had a headache for a week," he agreed. There was a thoughtful look on his face as he regarded Harry. "Though you've made it quite obvious you're willing to deal with us, there is another question to be considered…"

"What?"

"Do you think it is wise to run counter to the headmaster's wishes? Doing so would risk his displeasure, which could be… quite costly. As your executor and guardian, he has a great deal of power over you," Blaise explained.

"So how does that change?"

Blaise looked at him in surprise. "Well… when you come of age, obviously. Other than that, he would have to be deemed unfit or his status would have to be challenged by someone with equal or greater claim. Given your house's current status and Dumbledore's power, either of those would be nearly impossible."

"Wonderful," Harry sighed, slumping.

Blaise studied him. "Regardless, the headmaster is a powerful and well-respected man, lauded for his knowledge and judgement. Would it not be better to leave your welfare in his hands?"

"No. No, I don't think it would," the other boy muttered.

The corners of Blaise's mouth turned down in a slight frown. "Why is that?"

"Nothing… It's just… If I have family that are wizards, why wasn't I raised by them?"

 _Dissatisfaction and repressed anger._

"That is a good question. Normally, magical relations would be considered to have far greater claim to that task than muggle," Blaise replied. His eyes were fixed firmly on Harry's face. "However, since your parents appointed Dumbledore, he would have final say in any such arrangements."

 _Despair. Resentment. Far more than simple dissatisfaction._

"Do you find some fault in the arrangements he made for you?"

Harry started. "What? Oh, uh, no. No, it's not that. I just thought it would have been nice to have wizards for a family, that's all."

 _Evasion. Physical signs of a poor attempt to conceal the truth. An attempted deception that wasn't entirely for my benefit. Nervousness. Shame and embarrassment, as if he should have been able to prevent…_

His eyes shifted down to Harry's hand, the hand the was unconsciously rubbing his right thigh.

"It's a shame, really. Family is considered sacred in the old lines. My mother would have welcomed you as her own son, regardless of how tenuous our connection," Blaise stated. "She is a good mother, to the point of being a little… overzealous. I would say I'd hate to imagine what would happen to anyone who harms her family but, unfortunately, imagination is not required there."

"Oh," Harry breathed sadly.

 _Likelihood of misinterpretation is insignificant. What are the odds I can hide this from her?_ Blaise wondered with a shudder. _She already detests him, but if she finds out he let that happen to a child under his care…_

Family. Honor. Profit.

Always in that order.

This situation required some serious damage control, for the sake of everyone involved. She'd be sure to spot any attempt to manipulate her, but if you threw someone a good enough bone they probably wouldn't care where it came from.

"I'm afraid no service I can sell you is adequate for this situation. Despite that, I believe we may be able to help each other, cousin."

Harry blinked in confusion at the sudden change of address, but brushed it off. "Yeah? How?"

"Bear with me for a moment. This is a long story, but time is valuable. I'll attempt to break it down to the vital points."

"Okay…"

"In my family, positions of power are not inherited. They are granted based upon ability. Upon my father's death, my uncle took over and promptly 'convinced' our council to expel my mother from the house. She-"

"Wait. Why?"

"He and my father once fought for mother's hand. He lost," Blaise explained, waving it off.

"Dick move."

"Quite. My mother's loss of status hurt us greatly. She was forced to marry and murder seven men to-"

"Wait, what!?"

"There's no need to worry. I assure you, they were not good men."

"...you're sure?"

"The first struck me when I was four years old. The others were worse. She considered it a public service to feed them to her familiar."

"Oh. Still, should you be telling me that?"

"I doubt very much you're inclined to tell anyone. Such an act would gain you nothing," Blaise said with a shrug. "Besides, she has already been acquitted of all charges. It would take quite compelling evidence to try her again, and I'm very certain such a thing doesn't exist."

"That's good then," Harry said thoughtfully. "She's… uh… good at getting rid of evidence, then? Just, you know, out of curiosity…"

Blaise gave him a bright smile. "I doubt you'll find many better," he answered proudly. "Just for the sake of record, of course."

"Of course."

"Anyway, being cast out from the Zabini family made her something of a pariah in the business world. Many feel that being discarded by our house means her services are of no value. It is… not a good thing," Blaise sighed. "What I am suggesting is two actions that will benefit us all."

"I'm listening."

"First, grant me the exclusive right to provide financial management and acquisition services. My house once held such a contract, but it was terminated by-"

"Lord Dick Pothead."

"-Lord Dick Pothead. Reobtaining said contract will raise my status significantly, practically guaranteeing me a seat of power when I come of age. I will then place the actual responsibilities in my mother's more capable hands."

"That means… what exactly?"

"I will have access to your assets, to be used for your benefit. I will do all that I can to increase your wealth in exchange for a modest share of the income. Turning over actual control to mother is the best I can do for now, but that will change. Should you need a good or service you have difficulty obtaining, you will rely on us to get it whenever you have the option. I will . Again, for a minor fee."

Harry thought for a moment. "Uh, up until a month ago I didn't know what a knut was, so that actually sounds kind of helpful."

"That is why I've pointed out this will be mutually beneficial," Blaise agreed. "I have no reason to deceive you. The Potter vaults are… quite large. I stand to make a significant… a _very_ significant profit off this bargain, to be honest."

"Okay. That sounds good. What's the other one?"

"Adopt my mother as your first cousin," Blaise answered succinctly.

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"House Potter is of notably higher status than my own. Your acceptance of her into your family would erase her stigma and then some. It also has considerable benefits for you."

"What do you mean?"

"For one, you would have someone you can trust looking out for you. Mother has rather clear and… intense views when it comes to family. Should she become part of yours, it will be no mere lip service," Blaise replied. "Secondly, as soon as you adopt her there will be an adult Potter. Her claim to guardianship over you will be immensely stronger than the headmaster's. It will take a while, given his power, but she will wrest what is yours from his grasp."

 _And third, you can be assured that anyone who crosses you will pay, most likely in a manner that thoroughly discourages others from doing the same.._

There was a brief pause.

"Blaise…" Harry said quietly. He moved, an amorphous patch of black in the dancing shadows. Green eyes peered out at his companion, catching the light in a way that made them seem to glow. The luminescent rings were a shade frighteningly close to that of the Killing Curse. "You're not trying to put one over on me, are you?"

"No! No, of course no!" Blaise hastily replied. He tried to subtly coax a brighter light out of his torch stone.

"Okay. Good. But…" Harry frowned and leaned back. "Can I actually do either of those things?"

"If you get right down to it, you can't. Not really. But, realistically, you can," Blaise answered.

"That's not exactly helpful."

"Until my mother's adoption is validated by the head of your house or his proxy, the headmaster can nullify it. You cannot validate it, because of your age, and you have no family to act as proxy."

"So we're screwed," Harry muttered in a defeated voice."

Blaise frowned. "Do you really think I would suggest this plan if it was worthless? Technically speaking, Mother will be a Potter from the time you sign the adoption paperwork until the headmaster annuls it. That means you can name her your proxy, allowing her to validate her own adoption and remove the headmaster's ability to remove her."

"You've _got_ to be kidding," Harry scoffed. "Are you seriously saying something that stupid will actually work?"

"It's legally sound. Everything adheres to the exact letter of the law," Blaise said with a shrug. "There's even precedent."

"Wow. That's just… wow…"

"Isn't it? Our laws are quite a mess. If you know the right loopholes, you could get away with murder," Blaise declared with a very serious look on his face.

Harry snorted and started giggling under his breath. "I- I really shouldn't laugh at that, should I?"

"Probably not, but I get the impression you're going to do a great many things you probably shouldn't do. Rest assured that I will do my best to aid you."

"Thanks. I'll try not to set you on fire."

Blaise nodded. "I would appreciate that. There's one more thing I should show you before you go."

He walked over to stand in front of the broken chalkboard and muttered a spell under his breath. Six quick, broad sweeps of his wand gouge a pattern deep into the surface. It was three diagonal lines, each of which had a single vertical line drawn down from it. It looked something like three 'T's with diagonal top had been unevenly written upon each other. He finished it by sketching a rough hexagon around the symbol.

Blaise stood proudly before it and made a grand gesture.

Harry stared at it. "Okay, I give up."

"This, cousin, is your house crest."

Frowning, Harry studied it. "I kind of thought they were more… fancier. Like lions and shields and swords and seals and stuff. Maybe a wombat or two."

"Oh, you have one of those too. I do believe it even has a pair of wombats, come to think of it," Blaise said dismissively. "Lord Dick Pothead had it commissioned. But this is your _real_ house crest, the one your family has used since ancient times."

Harry rubbed his cheek thoughtfully as he examined it. "Huh. You know, I kind of like it. It makes me… I dunno."

"Incidentally…" Blaise quickly carved something that looked vaguely like a cracked diamond against the lower left line of the Potter crest and surrounded it with a hexagon. "This is the Zambini crest, and this-" an upside down question mark, very reminiscent of a potions phial appeared on the board to the right of his crest, again in a hexagon "Is the Greengrass crest. If you need something and can't find me, go tell Daphne. You can say anything to her that you'd say to me."

"Okay. Uh, thanks," Harry muttered. "Look, I'd better get back. Neville gets nervous if I'm gone too long, and I told him I just had to go splash some boatwater. He's probably getting really worried I'm setting something on fire by now."

"Of course. There's some paperwork you'll need to complete. I'll fill it out so all you have to do is sign. Read it first, though! You can expect a swallow sometime later tonight."

"A swallow?"

"They can bypass most wards that monitor or mislead mail owls," Blaise explained. "And please try to ensure your familiar doesn't eat it. They're actual birds, unlike mail owls, and are quite difficult and expensive to train."

Harry nodded. "Did you hear that? No eating swallows."

"'Kay," Angel's voice came from right behind Blaise. The poor boy pitch forward in shock and would have fallen off his chair if the familiar hadn't grabbed his shoulder. "Ooh, you shouldn't fall. Falling hurts."

He stared up into her slitted eyes in shock. "You've been there…"

"All the times," she said happily. Leaning closer to him, she smiled and softly said, "Don't worry, though. I like you."

"I… am very grateful for that."

She smiled again as she righted him in his chair. "That's because you're smart," she said happily. When she continued, it was in a whisper so quiet even he he could barely hear. "Smart enough to keep it that way, too."

Blaise nodded frantically.

"Angel, come on! Nev's probably having a heart attack by now."

With a final wave, she bounced up to Harry and followed him out the door.

Blaise sat in the empty room for several minutes, staring at the blackboard as the light from the torch stone faded away. The meeting had given him a lot to think about. More than he had anticipated, that was for sure.

What the hell had the headmaster been thinking, putting Harry in that environment? Had there been some sort of end goal, there? Was it supposed to have served some purpose?

Had the headmaster given the boy over to any one of his pet houses, things would be quite different. But raised by muggles and isolated from the wizarding world, there'd been no one to teach him about his family's history and ideals.

Their _new_ history and ideals.

It hardly seemed fair to let him go through life like that. Especially considering how _rich_ and _interesting_ the Potters' history was.

Blaise quickly tore four more shapes into the blackboard to form a single, larger hexagon centered on the Potter crest.

" _On its flesh lie golden Scales, with dauntless strength they shatter blade._

 _In the light flash sharpened Claws, they rend and tear all we've made._

 _With might of storm its Muscles move._

 _Its Bones unbreakable, it can prove._

 _Senses unmatched, there's no escaping its Eye._

 _It'll run you aground, Wings bearing it high._

 _The beast, it roams, so full of might._

 _Its endless search for order's blight._

 _Run, my children, if you hear its call._

 _Flee the dragon's Breath, it's worst of all."_

Blaise tore more symbols into the blackboard as he recited the rhyme, filling in the empty hexagons. A jagged line, vaguely shaped like a sword. A shield shaped like an uneven chevron. Something resembling a skeletal tree and a pair of diamonds that resembled an eye.

"Bone and Wings are a given, and mother says the Claws have been chomping at the bit for decades… The Eyes are a fair bet, assuming someone can find them. Then again, they're more likely to find us first. Muscle and Scale…" Blaise frowned as he thought aloud. "That could be a problem…"

A sharp sweep of his wand reduced the blackboard to unrecognizable fragments. It wouldn't do for anyone to see _that_. Not right now, anyway.

"I almost feel bad for you, Headmaster. When you hold a dragon by the tail, your life loses all worth when you release it. To lose your grip on Breath, of all things, is beyond foolish" Blaise sighed. "Your people tried to scour us from the past. I think it's only fair we remove you from the future. Striking a sleeping dragon is quite foolish if you value your life."

…

"Mother will be pleased."

* * *

"Well, I do believe that covers our normal business," Dumbledore declared. "Is there any new concerns that you would like to discuss."

Minerva sighed. She hated these idiotic meetings with a burning passion. Getting together once a week was a sound idea, and in other circumstances she would applaud it. Unfortunately, almost nothing was ever accomplished here. It often devolved into something of a child's tiff, with the heads of house and those that stood behind them snipping at each other and making snide remarks.

Snape was far and away the worst offender. He had a remarkable talent for stirring everyone up and turning a staff meeting into an epic pissing match. Even normally rational professors like Flitwick would act like fools if they were sufficiently agitated and their houses maligned. The potions professor had a real talent for angering them and setting them against each other, and no one else seemed to realize it. It was almost like the greasy git _wanted_ to ensure nothing more important than fruitless whining happened here.

It was little wonder there were so many problems laying around Hogwarts, ignored and unresolved. Even if someone _did_ bring up a major issue, the headmaster usually waved it off or came up with some reason it shouldn't be dealt with.

"The poltergeist, headmaster," Minerva declared. "Something must be done about it. It needs to be removed immediately."

Dumbledore looked at her with a confused expression. "I wasn't aware that Peeves had done anything worth of an exorcism."

"I believe she's speaking of the new poltergeist, Albus. It is becoming a very major issue, and certainly needs to be dealt with," Flitwick spoke up.

"I think it's quite odd no one has seen this alleged 'poltergeist' you speak of," Snape spat. "It's far more likely the work of-"

"-the Weasley twins, blight upon the wizarding world and spawn of the devil himself," McGonagall broke in. "Disregarding the fact that I have been watching them quite closely, do you really think they'd victimize their own friends? Poor Ms. Granger has had to send home for more undergarments already. What must her parents think of us?"

"Not a day goes by without several of my badgers discovering they're carrying someone else's wand. Can you even imagine that? Snatching a wand straight out of someone's robes, then placing it somewhere else… This creature, whatever it is, is far more subtle and dangerous than Peeves by far," Pomfrey declared.

McGonagall scowled as she nodded in agreement. "Mr. Potter's wand has been 'misplaced' no less than seventeen times."

"Something seems to have it out for the poor lad. I found it in my pocket just this morning. He was quite distraught by the time I returned it, and no wonder. What wizard would want to be without their wand?" Professor Vector added.

"Eighteen," McGonagall sighed.

"This… ' _poltergiest'_ seems to be victimizing my house in particular," Snape sneered. "Dozens of crude notes have been discovered in my students' robes, many suggesting that they do something anatomically impossible. There isn't a snake left who hasn't discovered one of their pockets was filled with jam, and just last week raw eggs found their way into several back pockets. I need not explain what happened next."

"Its actions are completely bizarre. My students have collected a total of thirty-seven hard-boiled eggs with faces on them. They even have limbs and little horns on them," Sprout muttered.

"Deviled eggs," Pomfrey snickered, drawing several exasperated looks. "What? It's rather clever."  
"The students are quite fond of them, actually. They've gone so far as to put preservation charms on them and set up a diorama in the common room. They were very excited when Mr. Diggory discovered one in his robe pocket this morning, especially since they didn't have a horse yet."

"Whatever or _whoever_ is the cause, this must be stopped. They are wreaking havoc among the students and disrupting _everything_ ," Snape hissed.

"Come now, it can't be that bad. Why don't we all just calm down and have a lemon drop while we think this over," Albus suggested. He reached into his robes, frowned and withdrew his hand. There was a bewildered look on his face as he stared at the fistful of wands he held. "Oh dear."

Minerva sighed and reached into her pocket. Popping the lemon drop she found there into her mouth, she inquired, "At what point would you consider this a problem, Albus? Feel free to mull that over, but I'd appreciate it if you would return my wand in the meantime."

Albus quickly distributed the wands to the gathered staff. They had relieved looks on their faces as they took them, but they were quite perturbed the instruments had been stolen without them so much as noticing. If the culprit could do that, who knows what other mischief they could wreak?

Apparently 'replace Snape's wand with a giant, purple sex toy' was pretty high up on the list. The moment he touched the 'wand' there was a faint popping sound. He suddenly found himself holding thirteen inches of rubber, complete with dangling bits.

"Utter bastards."

Minerva couldn't help it. She giggled.

Snape immediately turned to glare at her. "You think that's _funny_!?"

"No, Severus, not at all," she denied. "I'm not sure why you're so angry. I think it quite suits you, considering that you're an enormous pu-"

"Minerva! That is enough!"

"Forgive me, Headmaster. It's just that the way he was holding it, it looked like he wanted to give it a bit more than a flick and swish. We know he's grabbed at least one wand for protection, after all."

Snape reached into wand reflexively, growling, "If you think I'll put up with-"

There was a noise like a gunshot as Minerva's hand slammed down onto the table. The motion pulled back her robe far enough to reveal a complex pattern of scars carved into her forearm. Motes of light darted through the lines as the table rippled slightly and took on a steely sheen.

"Do it, Severus. Please," she whispered. With a vicious grin she used her free hand to drop her wand on the table in front of him. "Since your wand appears to be missing, feel free to use mine. I won't be needing it. I've dealt with monsters far worse than you without it."

"Behave yourself, Minerva!" Dumbledore barked. "I will not have you acting like a feral dog. Need I remind you that Severus has been acquitted of all charges?"

McGonagall snorted derisively, but the table quickly returned to normal. "Fine. But as far as I'm concerned, that mark is a death sentence. You may have a stay of execution while you hide behind the headmaster's coattails, but it won't last forever."

"You're welcome to try," Snape sneered.

"You can't even keep your classroom intact, Severus," McGonagall spat. "You think you can handle a named breaker? Any time you'd like to see why I'm called the Iron Maiden, I'd be quite happy to demonstrate. I know your time is precious, so I'll get right to the _point_."

"If you are done threatening your colleagues, Minerva…"

"For now."

"Honestly, I should have been more insistent that you stay with me," Albus sighed. "You had such a bright future, but you-"

"-went off with a band of lunatics. Yes, I know. To think Mad Eye respected you once, even considered you a brother," McGonagall said, shaking her head. "Perhaps it was for the best. I shudder to think how the Razor Wings would have turned out with your influence hanging over her."

"Most likely not a hired killer, for one."

"Liara is highly respected and a credit to the Moody line. I find it quite disrespectful to refer to her like that, Headmaster, even coming from you. She is no mere 'hired killer,' nor are any of us. If you take issue with how we protect _your_ people I suggest, once again, that you take it up with the ICW."

Snape gave her a smug smile from across the table. "And surely you can be trusted to 'protect' us. Not very convincing when it seems our vaunted breaker can't even deal with one little poltergeist. For all your bravado, it seem like you're lacking in teeth."

"Have you ever tried to stab a spirit, you idiot? It's possible, but it takes a lot of work. Once we find a way to locate it, I'll be leaving that part to Hagrid," McGonagall announced.

"Brass bullets empowered by a voodoo shaman, perhaps? Silver bathed in holy water under a new moon or an enruned slug may work too…" Hagrid muttered. "Gilded bullets blessed by a Jewish rabbi? No, those only work on Nazis. The price has been skyrocketing ever since the Tokyo DAPC started buying them all up anyway. I wonder what those lads are thinking. It's quite amusing, but they can't have _that_ many Nazis…"

"You will _not_ be using those vulgar things in my school!" Dumbledore snapped. "It's bad enough you insist on keeping them on the grounds and _playing_ with them in the Forest. Should even a single one cross the threshold into this school, there will be consequences."

Minerva and Hagrid exchanged a look.

"I've little time to bugger about and I've no inclination to bodge a hunt," Hagrid stated stiffly. "I'll not try to track the dip if I'm not to 'play with my vulgar things' when I find it."

"And last I hear, the rates pest-control companies charge for a poltergeist removal are well outside our budget. The Americans have a quaint saying describing the position you're in. I believe it was along the lines of, 'shit out of luck.'"

Dumbledore grumbled and rubbed his temples. Something told him he'd be going through a lot of Pain Relief Potions this year. "We will table discussions on how to rid ourselves of this poltergeist until we can at least reliably locate it. Does anyone else have something to discuss?"

Flitwick immediately shot up, standing in his seat and waving a arm. "Albus! We need to-"

"We're still not getting a ball pit, Filius," Dumbledore groaned.

The Charms professor immediately slumped back into his seat. "But… they give me weird looks when I go to Fiesty's Funhouse. They even asked me to leave last time…"

"Does anyone have _relevant_ business? No? Then consider this meeting adjourned. I'd like my heads of house and groundskeeper to stay for a moment, but the rest are free to go."

The rest of Hogwarts' staff filed out, leaving only six people in the room.

"What's this about, Albus?" Minerva queried. "I need to get back to my office."

Albus sighed and shook his head. "You chastise me for my inattention, yet you barely leave your quarters. Does that not seem hypocritical?"

"And yet I still know more about what's going on than you do. Doesn't that seem a little sad?"

"Yes, well, I have many pressing concerns, as you well know. Speaking of which, I stopped by the the third-floor corridor this morning," Albus stated conversationally.

"Do tell."

"Indeed. And while I was there, I couldn't help but notice that your preparations are a bit off. In fact, they don't seem to be at all what we agreed upon."

"What _you_ agreed on, old boy," Hagrid corrected. "You're bloody crazy if you think I'll put that doofer behind a cerberus."

"Barking mad?" McGonagall suggested.

Hagrid snorted and chuckled before quickly attempting to disguise it as a cough.

Minerva nodded and smiled. "I agree with Hagrid 100%. We spoke the other day, and decided your tasteless trap may as well bear fruit. Or, more likely, a corpse. Assuming Hagrid's pets don't eat it, that is."

"Bah. Not very likely, that," Hagrid replied with a good natured chuckle. "I may only be ace in one thing, but you're off your rocker if you think I don't take more pride in it than I ever did my wand. My lord would give me a good bollocking if I didn't muck in with everything I've got."

"Hagrid, you must-"

"A trap needs teeth, old boy, and yours was nothing but gums. Not to worry, though. Arsene and Sherlock have more than enough for everyone."

McGonagall smirked slightly as she said, "Assuming the intruder reaches them. In my experience, most people have a hard time moving when they're full of holes."

"Have you both gone mad? What in the world makes you think putting such things in a _school_ is a rational thing to do!?" Albus demanded.

The pair exchanged another look.

"A bit old to be throwing a paddy, isn't he?"

"And quite lacking in self-awareness," McGonagall agreed. "I'm quite certain you're breaking several laws here, Albus, and that's disregarding the questionable morality of the situation. I've aided you so far because if what you believe is true… If it's true, it would be better to deal with it now. As tasteless as I find it, Hogwarts _is_ quite a good place to protect something. Sometimes we have to do thing we'd rather not do."

"For the Greater Good,' Albus said sagely.

"No. Because it's the right thing to do, and because choosing the lesser of two evils is sometimes the best and only choice," Minerva disagreed. "If you have a problem with our preparations, feel free to take it up with the board. I'm sure they'd be quite interested in what you have to say. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Dumbledore stood as she turned to leave. "Minerva, we're not d-"

"Yes, we are. Come along, Ash. He'll be keeping them for now.."

Snape started in surprise as something shifted by his legs. Ash came slinking out from under the table, shooting the professor a dirty look as he passed. He 'brushed' the chair hard enough to knock it to the side, letting out a feline chuckle when Severus was almost spilled from it.

"Let's go, you lazy beast. We'll stop by the kitchens and get your some real sausage. I doubt you'd have liked the taste of that anyway. From what I hear it wouldn't be very filling, either."

The rest of the staff (bar Hagrid) watched in shock as she left the room.

Hagrid stood, his heavy chair scraping across the stone floor. "Well then, I'd best be off as well. I've got some 'vulgar things' to maintain, just in case your bogeyman decides to take a shortcut through my forest. It's not everyday you get a shot at hunting something new. I'm not about to botch it when I've the chance."

Albus groaned and rubbed his temples as Hagrid followed McGonagall. "Pomona, we'll be moving your defense to the front of the line. Please prepare something that will disable any curious students before they're massacred by whatever those two are planning."

"Of course, Headmaster," she said agreeably. She quickly left the room. Flitwick, a thoughtful look on his face, followed hot on her heels.

Dumbledore waited a moment, then groaned and slumped in his chair. "Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it, Severus…"

"We would not be doing it if it was not," the potions master replied. He withdrew a small phial and handed it to the older man. "My own mixture. A Pain-Relief potion, stimulant and extremely mild narcotic."

The headmaster took the potion and quickly quaffed it. He sighed as warmth began to spread through his body.

"They were both so promising, Severus. I was so sure they'd happily dedicate themselves to the Greater Good. But Minerva just _had_ to go to that cabin and find that blasted… whatever it was. It drove her right into the arms of those maniacs," Albus sighed. "And Hagrid… By the time I started looking for him, he'd already gone off with that damn muggle."

"Perhaps it would have been best to simply leave them where you found them. You could still rid yourself of them, even now," Snape suggested.

Dumbledore frowned. "You know that's not an option, Severus. Sybil was quite clear. They are important, and I can hardly direct them onto the proper course if they are elsewhere."

"If we could get her to clarify, perhaps…"

Albus shook his head. "I expected the Mind's Eye Potion and obliviation would cause long-term harm, but her mind is failing faster than I anticipated. At this rate we'll only be able to coax a few more premonitions out of her before she's gone entirely. Best to save them for when it becomes necessary."

"As you say, Albus."

"This was supposed to be so simple, Severus. But those damn lunatics had to ruin it," Albus complained. "As involved as he was in the muggle war, they shouldn't have been able to touch him. Avoiding ICW interference was the whole point of getting involved with that insane muggle in the first place. Breakers are oathbound so they _cannot_ provide aid in international matters. Being part of the war was supposed to shield him, damn it!"

"It is not your fault, Albus. Neither of you could have foreseen that the ICW could simply declare him a supernatural disaster to sidestep their oaths," Severus comforted him. "It is amazing enough that you got to him before they slaughtered him."

"He was barely an upstart, Severus. He was supposed to go on for _years_ and become the scourge of the wizarding world. He was supposed to kill off dozens of unmalleable houses. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a hero when the wizard you defeat is little better than a common criminal?" Albus demanded. "If he hadn't had the foresight to use muggles to research dark rituals… Because of his preparation, it was easy to make it look like he was preparing something earthshaking."

Snape simply stood by, silent.

"That was always the way, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "He was always the better of us. It should be him sitting here right now, but he insisted…"

"Don't worry, Albus. We'll ensure his sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"I certainly hope so, Severus. I'll do everything I can to ensure the vision Gellert and I shared will become a reality."

* * *

Minerva sighed as she shut the door to her office.

"Because it's the lesser of two evils."

With another sigh and a muttered, "Hypocrite," she rounded her desk and stood before the four large bookcases in the back wall. Without further ceremony, she began rearranging the books. With speed and efficiency that spoke of much practice, she slid, shuffled and exchanged books between the shelves.

It took half an hour, but she finally finished. Scowling in annoyance, she stepped back to examine her work.

A large runic array was emblazoned across the shelves. It was formed by lines and patterns on the spines of the books which, taken separately, would look like nothing more than decoration or random signs of wear. Together, however, they wove a complex and intimidating shape.

The third sigh was deeper and more weary than those that came before it. She reached one hand out and pressed it against the center of the array.

" _Aperta via, falsa fragmentum._ "

There was a brief moment of disorientation as the space behind the shelves shifted, replacing the false space beyond with what was actually supposed to be there.

 _-life beyond death beyond life beyond death read my words and power will be yours free me from my restraints take me up and revel in my power there is nothing I cannot give you you will never need to fear losing anything again join the one in the dark forest becoming one of the first a legion where all-_

"Oh, do be quiet," she hissed as the center shelves swivelled aside. They revealed a brick wall - much like you'd expect to find there - and another array. McGonagall examined it as she chastised, "Your pointless yammering grows more tiresome every time I hear it."

The second array wasn't nearly as complex as the one on the shelves, but somehow seemed to hold a lot more weight. Part of that was probably because it contained glyphs and sigils even the most studious wizard would never find in any book. The other part was that something about it almost seemed… alive.

The space inside the circle was badly corroded and decayed to the extent that the very stone was beginning to flake. Streaks of a black substance was smeared here and there across the runes. In places it had dried out and begun falling away.

"Still trying to claw your way out, I see."

 _-eternal freedom eternal power eternal life eternal pleasure eternal pain eternal joy-_

Without the slightest hint of hesitation she raised her hand and sank her teeth deep into it, just below the thumb. She let the blood well up for a moment, then smeared her wet palm across the array. Almost immediately, the blood began to blacken from the edges in.

The voice stopped.

"It's probably time we moved again. I think you're getting a bit too much of a foothold here," she told it. "I'll have to speak to Albus about a new office. We're running out of excuses, but the Curse of the Murderous Familiar sounds like a good one this time. For the moment I'd appreciate it if you slept for a while."

She allowed the shelves to close and quickly began placing her books back where they belonged.

"Have a nice nap and just wait patiently until I find a way to destroy you. May your dreams be haunted by nightmares beyond those even you can conjure. Goodnight, Naturom Demonto," she muttered.

Turning back towards her desk, her expression immediately brightened. She quickly withdrew a piece of folded parchment from her robes and placed it on the desk. Seating herself, she stared down at it with a faint smile.

"Now, my little poltergeists, let's see what you're up to."

Reaching out, she placed the tip of her wand on the parchment.

" _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ "

* * *

A/N:

Wow. Okay,so, this is clearly the most plot-heavy chapter I've written to date. By, like, a huge amount. For those of you that are here for the unending crack, sorry about that. This was always intended to tell an actual story, but to this point I've mostly only included small hints that won't make sense for quite a while. If anything, this chapter was a bit more serious than I would have liked.

Don't worry though. I kind of make up for it in the next couple.

The three things that are obviously important were pretty obvious, right? I can't help but wonder how many people caught some of the more subtle stuff. Some of it is building to things that won't happen for a while, so they're kind of hard to spot.

The thing about the Nazi bullets is from Black Dragon6's Guardian. (S)he gets all credit for that. If you're enjoying this, I highly recommend you read it. That and the other 4 stories I've favorited (I had to open a new account). In Flight is a lot less crack, but is actually the balance of humor and plot I'm trying (and failing) to emulate. Either way, they're the best works of authors way better than me, so you'll probably enjoy them.

Another random note here is that I'm currently working on two new project. Those of you who favorited me (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) will get a notification for a new story soon. I'm going to try to keep working on Something Familiar at a brisk pace, but updates might slow a hair.

One of them is my take on the 'transported to another world' and 'harem' tropes. Anyone who reads these knows my stance on harem fics. The main character is from a world similar enough to ours that we'd recognize it, but far enough that he isn't familiar with any of the stories. Since he retained his Genre Savviness, which a lot of these guys mysteriously lose, he knows harems are nothing but trouble. Unfortunately, knowing the situation sucks doesn't do much to get you out of it.

You can expect to see familiar magical girls in their late teens / early 20's (magical women?), as well as new characters that are generally recognizable as being related to a particular story. Think a woman with a Mai-Hime child, or a mage stationed on Earth by Nanoha's TSA. This is usually because I can't see the major characters being harem-fodder, or because I just don't like them enough to write about them. Yeah, that goes around a bit.

The second project is one where I slap random names on what is clearly and original story to make it technically a fanfic.

Nah, I'm just kidding. While the idea _was_ for an original story, I'm putting effort into making it fit, rather than half-assing it just to get people to read it. Luckily, that isn't particularly hard to do, considering the world is basically what Magneto was afraid it would become. It'll actually be a pretty good way to feature a bunch of characters, though not how you normally see them.

Not sure how I feel about it, but whatever. People seem to enjoy fanfics a lot more, and writing it will entertain me just as much either way.

So, look forward to Magical Girl Mayhem: Life Sucks When Your Harem Can Throw Fireballs and Not Quite Heroes V2: Sellout Edition in the near(ish) future.

Back on topic, next chapter is… uh, what happens when a two page intro turns into 16,000 words. Somehow. I actually ended up splitting it into two, so I have to look real quick to see what actually ended up making it into 20.

Next chapter we have a conversation about Angel's tracts of land, copious amounts of bodily harm, a good reason not to pronounce an apostrophe and we learn a bit more about Angel and her Other Place.

Also, Angel gets molested. Again. Yay!

Additional Note: Made a really minor edit. Realized I used Liara Moody's old breaker name, not the one I decided to go with.

* * *

 **Mind's Eye Potion**

A concoction popular among seers and new-age hippies, the Mind's Eye Potion opens the drinker to an array of sensory input they'd never experience otherwise. When drunk by a hippie, it results in a decent trip and a sever case of false enlightenment. Consumption by a seer, however, often induces an artificial premonition. These premonitions are just as accurate as the seer's normal ones, but the potion has the unfortunate effect of degenerating their mind bit by bit.

It also makes a rather nice frosting if mixed with heavy cream and confectioner's sugar in a 1:2:2 ratio. Just make sure to mix the cream and potion well before adding the sugar. You don't want to know what happens if you add the potion to a cream / sugar mixture. Trust me, you just don't.

 **Boom Juice**

One of Fred and George's accidental creations, Boom Juice is a thin, yellow potion. A strong shock causes it to begin breaking down and eventually detonate. It becomes less and less stable unless it is immediately sealed in an airtight container, progressing from yellow to orange and finally bright red. As it becomes less stable it takes less of an impact to start the reaction, the faster the breakdown occurs and the more violent the explosion is.

 **Firehole Gelly**

Another Weasley custom, Firehole Gelly is what they were actually trying to create when they discovered Boom Juice. With its creation, their quest to create wizard napalm from nothing but ingredients they found growing in the field out back was a success. It wasn't until they caught the gnomes eating it that the realized it we edible. It wasn't until George at some that they realized it tended to leave explosive charges in toilets.

 **Shoving Spell**

One of those fun 'prank' spells, the Shoving Spell is something like an extraordinarily weak banishing spell. All it's really good for is giving someone a good push directly away from the caster. The push becomes more powerful as more magic is put into the spell, but the power:push ratio falls off pretty quick. This makes it fairly hard to do much more than slam someone into a wall with bone-crunching force.

 **Incineration Spell**

A weak fire spell made for torching small bits of trash into oblivion. It was originally created as a way to dispose of snack wrappers without getting up. It only took 22 years for someone to realized you could use it to get rid of other kinds of paper, and another four for the revelation that you could use it on things that weren't paper.

The incantation means "burn to nothing" in Latin according to the finest free online translator money can buy. For all I know it might actually mean "Your mother's a whore" in Swedish. Either way, it's no worse than Rowling's faux-Latin crap.

 **Incineration Spell (Potter Custom)**

A bizarrely miscast Incineration Spell that somehow weaponized a bit of harmless magic. Harry's personalized version results in a completely useless trickle of heat. Unfortunately for the safety and welfare of those around him, he can hold the spell and accumulate the heat on the tip of his wand. He can't move or do much more than talk while doing so, but a little over seven minutes and it's instant volcano time.

 **Sanitizing Spell**

The aptly named Sanitizing Spell is pretty much the wizarding version of hand sanitizer. It gets rid of all the ickies and, unlike the standard Scourgify, won't make your head bleed. Of course, you wouldn't want to roll your head around in hand sanitizer either, so I'd skip this one too.

The incantation might mean "purify" or something. Hell if I know.


	20. Please Don't Kill Anyone

Something Familiar

Chapter 20: "For the Love of God, Please Don't Kill Anyone"

AKA: "The Good Shit"

* * *

It didn't take Harry long to decide that, despite the initial sting of their treatment, he didn't really care what the rest of their classmates thought. He had the one thing he'd dreamed about for years. He had people that actually gave a sh- ah, cared about him. The twins, King and his fellow first-years had easily become the most important things in his life which, admittedly, wasn't really a high bar to hit.

By the beginning of October, he couldn't really give two vascos what everyone else thought.

It helped that things had settled down pretty quickly. Like the twins had described, the situation essentially turned into a state of cold war. They were left pretty much to their own devices, and treated with an acceptable level of civility when they had to interact with others. It probably helped that none of them had caused any real problems since Neville's initial loss of points. While still fairly pissed, their housemate's attitudes warmed up as the lumps of obsidian slowly vanished from the glass, having drawn the conclusion that the small group had decided not to cause any problems.

At no point did it occur to any of them that Fred and George hadn't done anything to disrupt the school's activities, nor that it probably wasn't a good sign.

Suckers.

Whatever the reason, this treatment did a lot to calm them down a little. Children in their early teens had incredibly short attention spans. It didn't take very long for their focus on punishing their classmates began to waver and all talk of revenge and justice fell by the wayside.

Instead, things got much, much worse for Hogwarts' population.

Vengeance turned into a game.

It happened during one of their normal planning sessions, Harry was pretty sure. He very vaguely remembered some sort of disagreement about a flying watermelon the fired globs of Sticking Solution at ballistic velocities. Or maybe it had been the bucket full of charmed superballs. He wasn't quite sure, but the result was the same either way.

May the best pranks win.

King had, to their surprise, been quite eager to be involved. Of course, his eagerness had been more for the sake of everyone else than himself. By his reckoning, the chances of a multiple homicide, castle-consuming fire or outbreak of carnivorous butterflies were much lower than they would be if he just stayed out of it. He didn't exactly consider it an ideal situation, but volunteering to judge the contest and provide impartial aid allowed him to both set some ground rules and help prod their preparations in a direction that wouldn't cause harm.

King was immediately promoted to judge, jury, executioner, referee, prime justicar, greater archdukepriest, King King, head bishop-takes-rook, Mr. Mojo, Junior Owlverlord, Leader of the Homicide Prevention Squad, Captain of the Funnyrock Guard, The One True Walnut Cracker, Ultimate Doorstop and Paperweight, prophesied Goo-slayer, comma hoarder, Cauldron Cake annihilator, dude that lifts furniture so we can vacuum, our precious, and That Guy With Way Too Many Titles.

Fred even made him a badge and everything. Not once in the time since had they seen him without it.

The rules were simple:

1) Don't kill anyone.

2) The game began on Halloween.

3) Don't kill anyone.

4) The game ended the second week of June.

5) Don't kill anyone.

6) Pranks would be scored based on criteria chosen by King.

7) Seriously, don't kill anyone.

8) Highest score wins.

9) Permanently maiming someone would result in a loss of points.

10) Getting caught would also result in a penalty.

11) Killing someone would result in disqualification.

12) Please, for the love of god, don't kill anyone.

13) There was no 13th rule, but having 13 of them seemed cool.

Harry himself chose the starting day. It gave them plenty of time to prepare and seemed quite appropriate. When the date was questioned, he'd simply replied that it was hard to mourn someone you'd essentially never met. He'd always wanted parents, but it wasn't really _them_ specifically he'd dreamed of. How do you long for someone you've never met, or lament the loss of someone you've never spoken to?

In the end, his wishes were honored. Thus, the rules were agreed upon and the pact was signed in blood. By unspoken agreement, the others decided not to ask Harry where he'd gotten the vial of blood or what he'd been planning on doing with it. It was pretty fortunate he had it, actually, considering that way all their inkwells had mysteriously wandered off.

The mission was clear: disrupt the activities of Hogwarts population, destroy their sanity, and do it in the most impressive way possible.

A few group pranks suddenly became dozens of solo and joint strikes. The simple and straightforward goal of punishing their peers turned into a determined effort to make it as complex, absurd and hilarious as possible. Before they'd been gunning for their classmates, but now they were trying to best each other.

Basically, living in the castle this year would _not_ be conducive to one's long-term physical and mental health.

By the power vested in King by a bunch of deranged lunatics, 10/02/15 was declared the Prankocalypse.

* * *

"Kitten, stay still!" George ordered. "These pieces are really small, and they're a pain in the ass to transfigure."

"I won't be very happy with Fred if you make them drop a piece, Angel," Hermione stated.

The aforenamed twin looked at her in confusion. "What? Why me?"

"Because _you're_ supposed to be holding her hand still. If we drop something because she moved, it's obviously your fault."

George nodded sagely. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"I hate you."

Harry watched with interest as the trio tortured his familiar. Her arm was lashed down to an ironwood stump-table by a dozen or so thick vines. More held her in a kneeling position with her head tilted up and her other arm attached to her ankles. It looked very uncomfortable, and he was fairly certain some of the restraints weren't particularly necessary and were restraining things that didn't need to be restrained.

Judging by the look on Orchid's face, he was probably right. The plant girl was hanging suspended downside up from the Common Room ceiling. A series of creepers wound around her body, supporting her and keeping her covered(ish). She was hanging almost directly above the other familiar, looking down with the back of her head towards Harry.

Her positioning meant Angel was the only one that could see the unusually focused look in her eyes and the teasing smirk that accompanied it.

Harry's friends were hovering around the table, staring at her restrained arm intently. Fred was, as mentioned previously, attempting to hold the squirming cat's hand still with a pair of tongs around the knuckle and a pair of vice grips carefully clamped to her claw. Hermione and George were fiddling with several metal bits.

He watched curiously as the tip of Hermione's wand lit up.

"Okay, hold that still so I can solder the screw in. I'll probably burn a hole through her finger if I miss, so try to do it right," Hermione ordered.

Angel whimpered, "I like my finger…"

"Are you sure this is safe?" Harry asked for the fourteenth time.

Hermione huffed. The motion brought her wand dangerously close to Angel's imprisoned digit. "Honestly, Harry, it's fine. Trust me, I'm a professional."

"No you're not," George disagreed. "And even if you were, the fact that you felt like you needed to go out of your way to point it out'd make me seriously question your credibility."

"Fine. I'm not a professional, but I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I'm seriously questioning your credibility," Fred muttered. "If she takes my hand off because you burned her, I'm not going to be happy."

Sighing, Hermione made a broad, dismissive gesture with her wand. George just barely managed to lean back in time, narrowly avoiding a thermally-enhanced wand to the eye. "What're the chances of that happening? _Must_ you worry about everything?"

Fred slowly turned and looked down at the ruined remains of a dozen sets of tongs and grips.

"Well, we have her tied down better this time, and Orchid's promised not to tickle her anymore. She didn't take a limb off the first nine times, so what're the chances of her doing it the tenth?"

"Please don't raise flags like that."

"Ready Harry," Neville's voice called from behind him.

Harry braced his foot against the table and pushed, forcing the back of his flower throne to bend. Twisting and arching his back, he focused his upside down gaze on Neville. There was a look of concentration on his face as he ran his eyes up and down his friend's body.

"Two red cubes in your front left pant pocket, a blue ball in the back right and you ate the candy bar you had in your right robe pocket and put the wrapper in your back right trouser pocket."

Neville nodded and announced, "Thirty-one for thirty-three."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, "I still say those shouldn't count. I _told_ you he was too far away."

Fred snorted. "Yeah, I hate it when I can't tell what someone's carrying so I can steal it without actually touching them. It happens all the time. No, literally, it happens _all_ the time on account of, you know, it not being something people can actually do."

"It is quite clear that Harry is using an inherent spell of some sort. Perhaps some kind of highly specialized scrying and summoning spells…" King mused.

"Okay, fine. Explain Mio, then," Fred challenged. "Jacking someone's clothes, sure. Stealing a bra from under their shirt? Plausible, I guess. Stripping them naked in the middle of the Great Hall without _anyone_ noticing for almost two minutes? Yeah, that's way into the 'What the hell?' zone."

"Well, it is quite clear her spell tampers with the minds of both the victim and those around them. A confusion charm or something similar and - much like Harry's - highly specialized."

"I can get behind that. Man, if I had a spell like that…"

"Just thinking about that makes me shudder, Fred. Take the red cubes, Harry," Hermione ordered.

Frowning, Harry said, "I can't. He's paying too much attention to them and Angel's paying too much attention to me."

"You're certain?"

"Merlin, Mio, watch the face!" Fred squeaked. "Pay attention to _this_ , would you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be such a baby, Fred. It's just a low-temperature soldering compound. The Igniting Spell is barely even hot. It wouldn't burn you even if I whacked you in the face with it," she declared, whacking him in the face with it.

Fred yelped and threw himself away from the stump, clutching his cheek. "Shit! What the hell!?"

"Oh. Oh dear," Hermione muttered, squinting at her wand. "I think I have it set on '10'. I guess that zero is quite important, isn't it?"

"I hate you."

"Don't blame me! These numbers are _tiny_!" she protested, pointing to a ring of numbers, 1 through 10, ringing her wand. "Why are they so small? Actually, why are they even there? It's idiotic!" She grabbed her wand and turned, twisting the ring to bring '1' to the front. The light sitting on the tip of her wand became noticeably dimmer. "Whoever made this spell was clearly a moron. There's got to be better ways to control it."

Fred scowled at her and prodded his face. "You don't get to complain until you can manage to poke the right things with it. At least it's not too bad. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Uh, I think I might have seared your pain receptors or something. Maybe put them into shock…" Hermione said slowly. "You'll, uh, probably feel it later."

"Yeah? Is it bad?"

Hermione, George and Harry all winced as he pulled his finger away, drawing a strand of melted flesh with it.

"Nah, I think you'll be fine," George said, turning away and trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

"Definitely," Hermione agreed, carefully breathing through her mouth to avoid the scent of roast human. "You'll be fine, but you should probably get it looked at, just in case. Let's finish this so we can get you to the Hospital Wing."

"Uh-uh. No way," Fred said, shaking his head. His cheek wobbled in a way that made Harry almost rainbow on the spot. "I'm out. I've got nothing to do with this now."

"But… fine. Harry?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head and held up his hands, displaying the pair of red cubes held between his fingers. "Sorry, I've got my hands full."

Neville frowned and patted his pocket. There was definitely a noticeable lack of cubes in it. "Wait, what?"

"You got distracted when Fred's face melted," Harry explained.

"That fast?"

Harry shrugged. "I could almost touch you if I tried. It's really quick to… lock on, I guess? It's really fast and easy to lock onto something from here. You were paying attention to Fred for at least a few seconds. Oh, and I took everything else, too," he declared, pulling a candy bar wrapper out of his pocket. "And I gave you a toad."

"...a toad?" Neville muttered, reaching into his robe pocket. After a few moments of searching, he pulled out an amphibian. He squinted at it and said, "Why did I need a toad, Harry? And this isn't even a toad to begin with! It's a frog."

"No, silly, he's a toad. Trevor the Toad."

Neville stared at the frog, then stared at Harry. "Harry, this is obviously a frog."

"Don't say that!" Harry hissed quietly. "Professor Nutmuncher asked Angel to take care of Trevor the _Toad_. He saw some stuff he shouldn't have, and now he's laying low. He's Trevor the _Toad_ , get it? Do you _want_ the meerkats to come give him cement shoes?"

"A university professor that happens to be a chipmunk wants us to help his frog friend pretend to be a toad so the meerkat mafia doesn't kill him?" Hermione sighed. "I'm pretty sure that sentence has never before been uttered in the entire history of mankind. Sometimes my life really worries me…"

"It's not so bad. At least you're not the poor goldfish that got anti-drowned," Harry said reasonably.

"I'm just going to pretend this entire conversation never happened. Congratulations on your new pet frog-toad, Nev. Now would someone _please_ help us?"

King leaned over and tapped the surface of the table with his wand. " _Lignum fit vincula_."

The wood surged up and flowed around Angel's fingers like liquid. It hardened before she could react, imprisoning her digits.

Hermione stared in shock. "Why didn't you just do that earlier!?" she demanded.

"You did not ask. I assumed that you did not require further assistance," he replied.

"I… guess that's reasonable," Hermione muttered. "Let's just get this over with. We're not holding Angel down because we enjoy it, you know."

Angel's sudden squeak suggested that at least one person disagreed with that statement. The theory was confirmed as the cat twisted slightly and hissed at Orchid.  
"Really?" Hermione asked, looking up at the spirit. Orchid stared back with her normal, faintly puzzled expression. "Fine. One of us-" there was the sound of someone clearing a throat. "Two of us, then. Wait, which one of you did that? I was looking away." A moment of silence passed. "Three of us. Happy?"

Fred grinned. "About as happy as a guy with a burned face can be."

"Not as happy as Flower, but still pretty happy," George agreed.

"It appears so." Hermione stared up at the plant curiously. "What, exactly, did you eat? Like, preferred diet? Because I'm really starting to wonder… Though, I suppose it isn't that odd. Even alura une would have differences in preferred psychology and biology as far as… that… goes. Wait, do you even _have_ biology?"

In response, Orchid's face unfolded. Within was a twisting mass of vines and dozens of thorns grinding against each other. Six eyes stared out at Hermione, nestled among slimy, fleshy petals.

"Well, I'm glad I got today's emotional scarring out of the way early," the witch declared.

Orchid's face closed, allowing her to silently giggle. Her vines lengthened, dropping her down in front of Angel. Their lips brushed slightly as the spirit carefully exhaled a tiny puff of white.

Frowning, Angel said, "Uh, I don't really know all the right words, but Dirty Flower says nom-nom plants are equal opportunity. They don't care what shape the foods are in, but it's better if their brains get along."

"So some type of psychological compatibility or emotional bond causes the attraction?" Hermione mused.

Angel frowned. "Uh, yes?" she answered. It sounded more like a question than an actual response.

"So you're more psychologically compatible than Nev is? I mean, she spends a _lot_ of time with you," Hermione observed with a frown. "How is that possible? Nev's her wizard."

"Gah! Bad tongue!" Angel protested as Orchid tilted her face forward again, touching their lips. "Bad Flower! Dirty Flower! Talk normal!"

Hermione frantically shook her head. "Don't talk normal!" she protested. "Talk just like that. I'm okay with a little yuri if it keeps me from rainbowing…"

"I'm just okay with a little yuri, period," Fred piped up. "In fact, I'm okay with a lot of yuri. We should go with that."

Orchid looked down at him a moment, tilting her head in thought. After a moment her body rippled, bursting into an explosion of colorful lilies. The mass quickly burst, sending colorful petals in every direction.

"That's _not_ what I meant…"

The mossy floor rippled behind Angel as they fell and suddenly produced an Orchid. Giggling silently, she flopped forward and wrapped her arms around the cat's neck.

"She said Nev-Nev's her Keeper. He's so important that he's not for the eating," Angel sighed.

Hermione's face lit up in understanding. "Oh dear. She associates food with… activities, doesn't she? So she's not as clingy around Nev because she doesn't want to eat him. But she likes you because…"

"I'm good noms," Angel agreed. "Flower's been part of Nev-Nev long enough that she's a lot more like peoples. She knows there's good uncrunchy stuffs to go with them. She understands I'm not for eating, but if she was still just a silly flower she'd try to crunch me real fast."

Orchid giggled again and tightened her arms around Angel.

 _Same,_ Orchid breathed helpfully. Her narcotic pollen tickled Angel's cheek, but went no further.

Angel tilted her head and glared at the plant out of the corner of her eye, causing her to instantly freeze up. Amber eyes glared at her with frightening intensity.

" _Quiet,_ " Angel hissed, just barely loud enough for the spirit to hear.

The alura une stared back for a brief moment, then quickly unraveled and vanished into the floor.

Hermione looked up after her. "Uh, okay…"

"Nom-nom plants do weird things," Angel helpfully explained, "But Flower's smart enough to know what she shouldn't do now, isn't she? She knows what the no-no's are, except for the touches. It's okay, though. She tells me My Boy is safe all the times, so I can be okay with the naughty vines."

Harry looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, like when she tries the touches on my-"

"No," Hermione interrupted. "What did you mean when you said she lets you know Harry is safe?"

"Oh~, that makes more sense. Strong nom-nom plants make seeds. They're in the seeds but they aren't, but they can be if they want. Even if they're not in the seed they're in, they can see almost like they are. If they're in a seed they don't want to be in, they can go to a seed that isn't them real quick. Nev-Nev's got a seed that isn't, but can be if she wants. So as long as my boy's near Flower's seed that isn't Flower until it is, I know he's safe!""

"My brain hurts," Fred complained.

"Orchid put something in Nev so she can tell what's going on and get to him fast," Hermione translated. "Where else does she have these things?"

Angel pointed at her. "One in Mi'oh, because she goes places My Boy and Lord Nev can't. One in Brother A, because he's always with Brother 1 and gets hurt more. I let her keep one in me so she can come back quick and 'cuz it makes her feel better. Show them, Flower, but no squeezes or you get the scratches."

The vines around Angel's chest shifted, lifting her right breast. Midway up her ribcage, where it would normally be hidden, was a discolored spot. It was like the flesh had healed over with a sliver of wood still inside.

"See? Seed."

"What seed?

"Going bouncy back and forth is easy, but she'll need a Mr. Moo Moo later if she has to do it with the quickness. Either way, she kinda sees and stuff."

"Wait, does that mean she watches me use the toilet? Is she watching me too?" Hermione demanded.

"Kinda?" Angel replied. "I don't think she pays a lot of attention. It's not very interesting, and you don't look like you'd taste good yet."

Hermione groaned, "And this is my life, right here. An insane cat hybrid and man-eating plant watch me go to the bathroom, and one of them is considering eating me. Or is it both of you?"

Angel made a disgusted face. "Ew. People don't taste good at all. And Flower doesn't want to eat you yet. She does say you'll probably be full of yummies later, though. 'Specially if we keep taking good care of you."

"I have really mixed feelings about that," Hermione muttered. "Either way… Man up and help your brother, Fred. It'll be a lot easier that way. Honestly, it's like you guys've never used a pair of tweezers before."

George stared down at his hand. "Uh, Mio? I _haven't_ ever used a one of these things before. Seen 'em, sure, but I didn't even know what they were for."

"Yeah, and never mind the crunchy-holdy things," Fred muttered, kneeling next to his brother. George quickly swapped places with him, positioning himself on the side that was free of horrific burns. "How the hell do those even work?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's all just simple mechanics, really. Here, use the other screwdriver and hold it right here. George, wedge it here. It'll make it easier."

"Alright… Got it. Tighten the thing, Fred."

"Ow! Ow ow ow! Too tight, too tight!" Angel cried.

George quickly twisted his tweezers, shifting a small piece of metal and ending Angel's pained cries. "The other one, idiot! Why would I want you to crush Kitten's finger!?"

"I thought that was a little odd," Fred admitted.

"Merlin, Fred. You sat there and watched me do nine of these. How could you screw it up?"

"Hey, don't whine at me. All you have to do is poke a couple of metal bits. Why do you get the easy part?" Fred whined.

"Are you kidding? All you had to do was hold her and 'till now, and you still screwed that up. Last time you slipped, the spring shot out and hit me in the eye. I swear to god you aimed that somehow," George accused. "So either tighten the thingy, or let me punch you in the eye and trade places with me. You might want to think about that real hard, too. I'm feeling pretty punchy at the moment."

Fred thought for a moment, then quickly leaned back over Angel's hand. "Yeah, I'll pass on that," he decided, reapplying the screwdrivers. "Just stay still, Kitten.""

"You know, the idiot's right, though. This stuff is pretty cool. All I'd have to is move this bit a little and I could grind Kitten's bones into dust," George commented.

"I like my bones too… I wanna keep my bones _and_ my finger," Angel whimpered.

"It's okay, Kitten. I'm feeling punchy, not crushy," George reassured her. "I've seen a lot of muggle crap, but I didn't know it was this easy…"

Hermione shrugged. "Most of it isn't, but simple machines using mechanical advantage are pretty basic. Once you get a reasonable understanding of them, you can figure out how to do a lot of stuff. Like I said, the vice grips are pretty basic, and they're one of the most useful tools you'll ever see."

"And it doesn't use electricity. I thought muggle stuff always used electricity," George said thoughtfully.

"Not at all. A surprising amount of it is just machinery or chemistry. I've some books on it, if you're interested. I could send Headwig to go and fetch them."

George nodded. "Yeah, that'd be cool. You set, Fred? I'm letting go."

There was a slight click as a small metal piece fell into place. Hermione quickly leaned forward to apply a thin cord of metal and the hot tip of her wand.

"There! Done. Let her go, Orchid," Hermione ordered, prompting Angel's viney restraints to fall away. "How is it?"

Angel stood and held her hand up to the light. It was covered in something like a slave bracelet. A band of black metal circled her wrist. Thin, black chains were connected to it, running up the back of her hand and connecting a pair of rings - one below each joint - on each finger. A jointed, skeletal structure was perched on the back of each finger tip, supporting a curved metal spine running down her claw.

She wiggled her fingers. The black metal shone in the light, lending her hands a ominous, sinister look that they hadn't had before.

"Oh, well done. We somehow made Kitten's fingers more horrifying than they already were. A well-spent day," Fred said, clapping slowly.

"My fingers aren't horrifying!"

"Your nails aren't wide enough to cover what they they should and they go down into your fingertips in a way the shouldn't. It's like they come right out of your bones or something."

Angel studied her hand and waggled her fingers again. "Uh, I think they do. It's for the cutting. I couldn't do the cutting if they were all gross and just stuck to the skin like a people's," she declared. "I don't like the thingies. They're ugly and they feel icky."

Neville examined the raised hand. "She's right. They don't look very comfortable at all."

Stepping forward, Hermione reached out and grabbed the bottom of Neville's shirt. She tugged it up with a sharp yank, exposing the thorned vines winding back and forth across his chest. Some of the sharp points were quite obviously digging into his skin.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you don't get an opinion when it comes to 'comfortable' Nev."

Neville pulled his shirt back down, struggling slightly to get it over a particularly thorny part of his chest. "You get used to it," he said with a shrug.

"And I'm sure Angel will get used to those," Harry declared. "You want to be able to pick things up, right?"

Angel muttered something unintelligible.

"Please? I'd really like it if you could stop cutting things on accident."

Angel muttered again, but nodded.

"That's assuming they work. I still say they won't work," Fred grumbled. "I can't believe I wasted so much time on this when I could have been getting ready for-"

Hermione reached out and tapped the back of Angel's hand. There was a faint click as the frame on the back of her index finger snapped up and back, bringing her claw with it. Fred stared in surprise at the deadly weapon now tucked safely and securely against the back of her hand. Her finger looked for all the world like a normal person's, barring the strip of nail curving across the tip. It looked like someone had neatly sheared off the claw at its source.

"Okay, what the hell?"

"I told you, it's simple. The Kelshet-Randal variation of the Stability Charm King showed me works by anchoring an object to a specific point in space, ensuring it doesn't move even when it moves. Don't even ask me how that works. Trying to figure it out hurt my brain so bad I got a nosebleed," Hermione complained. "Anyway, reversing the charm will, logically, anchor a point in space to an object. It only took us a few days to figure out once I explained what I wanted to do. Angel's claw didn't actually move, it just went with the backing when _it_ moved. Technically speaking, it's still in the same place."

Fred stared at her. "Okay, I'm sorry, but there's no way in hell any of that should work. Even by my standards that doesn't make any sense!"

Hermione shrugged and replied, "Hey, I didn't write the book. I just tried to keep my brain from escaping out my ear while I read it."

"So… what happens if it breaks?" Harry asked nervously.

"It would be quite safe to say that one would not want to be in the space her claws frequently occupy," King answered. "I have no doubt that the result would be rather messy for anyone in that unfortunate position."

"The charms are really stable," Hermione reassured him. "There won't be any problems in Hogwarts, but she'll have to be sure to spend enough time around you during the summer to keep them powered. Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem. As long as they can recharge, there's no danger of- Hey!"

Angel stared down at her finger, then experimentally poked Hermione in the side of the head again. Examining her hands, she hesitantly brushed a finger along one of her chains. The corresponding sheath snapped back, temporarily declawing the digit. She quickly released the rest and began poking Hermione with each in turn.

"Do you- have to- do that!?"

"Nope!" Angel giggled, poking her in the face again. "But it's fun! I never got to do the poking before. Well, not without it bein' kinda messy…"

"I still say it shouldn't work," Fred whined.

"It shouldn't. Not if you just used magic, anyway," Hermione conceded. "Spells that move things through space and spells that just plain move space don't get along. They rip each other apart pretty quick if you put them too close together long-term, and they tend to take whatever they're on with them. We lost a couple of prototypes that way before we decided it was impossible."

"Mio's used of simple muggle construction techniques was a quite novel solution to the problem," King said approvingly. "In addition, charming spines before construction was much easier than trying to charm just part of the complete product."

"And the way the bracelet and rings squeeze down keeps them there without a Sticking Spell. There's hardly any magic in them. It'd be hard to tell they're there at all, and they're so simple that keeping them from breaking down is really easy," George mused, staring at Angel's hands thoughtfully. "That's insane… Insane but really cool."

Hermione shrugged. "It's just a couple of vises and a ratchet and spring mechanism. They're both really simple."

"I thought muggle stuff wouldn't work here. I mean, I know electricity doesn't work because of all the magic. I never really thought there'd be something useful that _did_ work…"

"Really, George, this stuff's been around for centuries. How in the world could you not know about it?"

King cleared his throat. "I am afraid that the vast majority of wizards askew any methods that do not involve the use of magic. Even muggleborns like ourselves tend to turn away from them. The result is that while knowledge about machinery has not quite been lost, it has certainly been misplaced."

"That's absurd. How could you _not_ know that?"

"How many students our age would eve know such techniques? How many do you think continue their muggle education once they come here? I am somewhat ashamed to admit that even _I_ would not have thought to combine simple machinery and magic to solve a complex problem," King admitted with a frown.

"How does it work?" George asked suddenly. "I mean, I know it has the boingy bit, but…"  
"You really _are_ interested then?" Hermione asked excitedly. "I could send Headwig now. Maybe have her get some extra material…"

"Yeah, that'd be really cool. Thanks."

"No problem. It's quite nice to find that someone else is interested in scimagic!" she said happily.

The boys all looked at her, obviously a bit confused.

"Scimagic?" George asked hesitantly. "The hell is that?"

"The combination of science and magic, obviously. Using the best elements of both, we'll accomplish thing neither scientist nor wizard have ever dreamt possible!"

Leaping onto the table, Fred roared, "And with that power, we'll _take over the world_!" He immediately followed the declaration by throwing his head back and laughing hysterically.

There was a moment of silence.

"Okay, does it worry anyone else that no one even looks this way when a horrifically mutilated wizard stands on the table and screams that sort of thing?" George asked. "I mean… I realize we have a SEP Charm up, but really? What the hell do they expect us to be doing if this qualifies as normal enough to fall under the charm?"

King frowned at him. "Red, did you not hurl a chinchilla into that poor Ravenclaw's face while screaming, 'Fly, my furry minion! Fly!' just yesterday?"

"It was _supposed_ to be a winged pig. I'm not really sure how I got the transfiguration wrong, but I'll admit I should have checked it before starting the launching sequence."

"Why would you call it 'furry' if you didn't know?"  
George shrugged. "I was trying to make a furry winged pig. Winged pigs have to have fur. I thought everyone knew that."

"And I do believe Harry had a rather loud argument with one of the shrubs in the courtyard just the day before."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I didn't like the way the bastard was looking at me. He won't do it again, though. Not after I vasco'd him up like that."

"Why do they even replant those things?" Fred asked. Small chunks of skin fell to the floor as he scratched his burned cheek. Hermione tried very hard to not think about the way they vanished when they hit the mossy carpet. "I mean, they _do_ keep 'spontaneously' combusting. What's the point?"

"I can't freaking believe he even figured out how to do that wandlessly. I mean, it's just the Incineration Spell, but still… that's nuts," George declared, giving Harry a look filled with a great deal of respect and a small amount of awe.

Harry shrugged. "It's like anti-plant shears. It's good to know."

"...Harry, I'm pretty sure _shears_ are anti-plant shears."

"Shears aren't for plants, Fred. They're for cougars and getting rid of things that aren't clean. You said so yourself," Hermione chided.

"I'm pretty sure I never said that."

"If anything, shears are like anti-cougar fire. If I could set thing on fire by talking at them, I wouldn't even need my shears, would I?" Hermione continued, completely ignoring him. She slid a hand into her robes and frowned. "No, I think I still would. The metal's always so smooth and cool. It feels nice."

"Uh, George? Is it wrong to be scared shitless by a little girl?"

"Considering she just used an Igniting Spell to mutilate your face, probably not," George said with a shrug. "I'm just glad we claimed them before anyone else did. Having actual competition would suck. But now… now we are a single, mighty force! A plague waiting to be unleashed upon the world! _A curse of doom upon all your heads! Fear, for the end is nigh!_ "

Neville quickly looked around the room and reported, "Sorry, George. No one looked."

"You know, I'm starting to feel like this is some kind of challenge."

Hermione surveyed the room with a frown. "I agree. It is rather irritating. It's not like I _want_ them to pay attention to us, but the fact that they aren't is kind of getting on my nerves. I- eep!" Hermione squeaked, darting away from Angel. "Don't do that!"

The cat stared down at her hand, flexing the finger she'd tickled Hermione's neck with experimentally. She examined it for a moment, then looked back up at the witch.

"Don't you da-"  
Angel pounded before the witch could finish, bearing them both to the ground. The pair became a ball of flailing limbs and hysterical giggles the second they touched down.

George watched the battle for a moment before asking, "Why can't Harry do his thing if people're paying attention to him?"

"Um, I think it'd be kind of hard to steal something if someone was watching you, right?" Neville suggested. "And It'd be the same if they were watching what you want to steal."

"It's hard if they have their pockets buttoned, too. Why do people button their pockets? It's annoying," Harry complained.

George gave him a comforting pat on the head. "Usually so people can't steal their things, Harry. People're inconsiderate like that. Always wanna keep their stuff to themselves."

"That's not very nice. I mean, I share our things with them."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that doesn't count. Most of our things were already their things at some point. Sometimes seven or eight times, even," George pointed out.

"Hey, the kid's right. It's totally inconsiderate of them to try and make sure their things stay their things. Not to mention pointless, really," Fred backed Harry up. His eyes were following the one-sided tickle fight - well, _parts_ of it, at least - with interest. "You guys mind if I get in on this, because I'm- Gack!"

Harry and George both watched with surprised looks on their faces as Fred was dragged backwards and slammed into the floor. His face was a mask of horror as he struggled with the vine that had suddenly appeared around his neck, kicking his feet against the mossy ground futilely. His expression only grew more terrified as the plant life below him shifted, surrounding his head with a massive, thorn-lined maw.

Angel put her torment of Hermione on hold for a moment, holding her down with a knee to the center of her back. Turning, she said, "You know, peoples don't like it when you try to steal their noms. Flower says I'm _her_ food now, so trying to take me away is probably a bad thing."

"Duly noted," Fred gasped. "Can I have my neck back? I never really appreciated how nice having it was until now."

"Flo~wer~, you can let him up. He was just being the stupid brother."

The thin garrote snapped in the middle. It's trailing ends were quickly sucked back into the floor. The massive wooden jaws lingered for a moment, trembling ominously before vanishing into the floor.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Hermione grunted from under Angel's knee. "That she'd eat you if she could, that is."

Angel shook her head and returned to experimentally poking her captive with one finger, amusing herself by seeing which parts made her squirm and giggle. "She wouldn't eat me, she just _wants_ to eat me. It's different, and it's just what nommy plants do. Getting all upset would be like Flower getting upset because I want to scratch her when she gets all annoying and touchy."

"I think I'd probably be pretty worried in either case."

"That's 'cuz peoples think about the stupid things. If I know Pretty Flower isn't gonna crunch me, why does it matter if she thinks I'm yummy? Flower knows I won't cut her up, so why should she be all scared I could? None of the eating or the scratching. We're friends, so that's the deal."

"Deal?"

Angel looked at her curiously. "You act like you don't like Brother A, but you never give him the hurts. Ouchies, yeah, but not the _real_ hurts. You're friends, and friends play nice, right? So that means no scratching or eating."

"I guess that makes sense, even if it's an odd way to put it. Speaking of eating, the ground tastes terrible. Could you let me up?" Hermione grumbled.

"Ooh~, you shouldn't eat that. That's not good at all," Angel declared, rolling of Hermione and quickly righting her.

The abused girl glared at Angel suspiciously as she tried to brush clinging bits of green off her robes. "And why, exactly, is that?"

"Because it makes you see the funny things that probably aren't there."

Hermione froze momentarily, then began frantically working her tongue around her mouth and spitting repeatedly.

"You alright, Mio?"

"Of course I'm not alright, George! I just found out I was lying facedown on enough narcotics to kill a pod of blue whales!"

"No, it's okay. You need to eat a big bite to see the things."

Hermione sighed, "Well, that's a relief. There's so many things about my life I have to figure out how to tell my parents about. I don't really need, 'Surprise, I'm a junkie!' to be one of them."

"Hey, we should-"

"We're not selling narcotics, Fred. I put up with you selling Giggledust candy, but that's different."

The twins exchanged a quick glance.

"You, uh, know about that?" George hesitantly asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Gasp! It was _you_ all along!? I had no idea the 'Laughing Taffies' people have been turning up with - the ones that have the same color, smell and effect as Orchid's Giggledust - were coming from the two of you. They could have been coming from anywhere, really. I'm shocked and disappointed to find out it was you two."

"Oh, nice job George," Fred hissed.

George belted him upside the head. "She's being sarcastic, you moron!" he snapped. Immediately afterwards he froze, realizing he'd just slugged Fred on the wrong side of the face. He took one look at this formerly clean hand and rainbowed off to the side.

"That stuff is harmless, and that's before you dilute it into candy. Neville practically drank it all morning, and all it did was give him an incapacitating laughing fit," Hermione sighed. She searched her bag and quickly produced a bottle of mouthwash for George. "We really need to figure out a potion like this. My parents are bound to wonder why I'm going through so much, and I doubt explaining that at least one of us rainbows on a daily basis would comfort them."

Fred gave her an abashed grin. "We, uh, thought it might bother you, but it seemed like a good way to make some money."

"Please. Sometimes you act like I'm completely unreasonable. Those things are far less harmful than a pop that sears a hole in your tongue. I honestly question a culture that sells children things like that," Hermione grumbled.

"Hey, don't ask me. I don't make the stuff," Fred protested. "Humpy Wiggle-Eye the Third comes up with it all. It's pretty hard to compete with him, since he's somehow convinced everyone his candy is fun…"

Hermione stared at him. "'Humpy Wiggle-Eye?'"

"Weird name, right? His CFO is named Floppy Cock. He's a rubber chicken," Fred said with a shrug. "So, like I said, I don't eat it and I don't make it, so don't blame me."

"If you made it, it would probably be something disgusting and perverted. Fred? Did you know you fifth eye is a little off-center?"

Several seconds of silence passed as her friends mutely processed that. Finally Fred responded with, "Uh, what?"

"Your fifth eye. It's off center. I never noticed it before, but now I just can't unsee it. It's maddening."

"Uh, Mio? I don't _have_ a fifth eye. Or a fourth one, either. I do have a third one, though, but it's in my other head and you hit me every time I try to take off my pants."

"Of course you do. Do you think I'm stupid," Hermione huffed. She raised her hand and pointed roughly a foot to the left of his head. "It's right there. I don't know _what_ you're thinking, just letting your eyes float about, but I'd appreciate it if you put them back. You're freaking me out."

" _I'm_ freaking _you_ out?"

Angel giggled, "Oopsies. Mi'oh swallowed before she spit. It doesn't do any good if you do it the wrong way."

"I thought you said that stuff was harmless," George hissed.

Hermione looked at him in abject terror. "No, George! You have to keep your arms! How will you catch Fred's eyes without them? How will you… _play the tambourine_!?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I don't know if I've even seen a tambourine, let alone played one, Mio."

"That's because you gave your arms away. You can't play the tambourine without arms, silly. Well, not unless it's one of the seven-dimensional ones, but those are pretty rare," she mused. "And they sound like Pansy's mating call. _Squeeeeee-booooo_! Wait… I think it was more like a wet splat and a roomful of disgusted gags… Maybe someone demanding his two knuts back."

Fred muttered, "Sounds about right."

"Because they rotted off. Just… splat-splat on the ground, as soon as he saw her," she giggled, punctuating each 'splat' by forcefully levitating a bit of fruit from a nearby tree and slamming it into their stump. "No more knuts in the knut sack."

"Kitten…?"

"Hey, don't look at me. Not my fault Mi'oh's a lightweight."

" _I am not fat_!" Hermione screamed, waving her wand menacingly. It probably would have been more threatening if she was actually aiming it at her target and actually holding the right end. "Your _mother's_ fat! She's so fat she's… she's…"

The others stared at her expectantly.

"Hmm… Does anyone have a bag of chips? I really want some chips."

George turned and gave Harry a questioning look. The boy looked down at the ground with a look of intense concentration, his lips moving silently. Eventually he looked back up and shook his head.

"Sorry, Mio. No chips."

"Oh… Okay! Can I just eat your face, then?" she asked hopefully.

George froze, mouth half open and face a mask of horror.

Hermione giggled and gave him a comforting pat on his brother's head. "I'm kidding. It's okay, I'm kidding. I wouldn't eat your face."  
George sighed.

" _We haven't fried it yet._ "  
"Jesus!" he cried, scrambling around to hide behind his brother.

Fred scratched his chin. "You know, are we sure she's high? That was a lot like something she'd do even if she wasn't…"

Hermione's dilated pupils fixed on his nose. "I can see the universe," she breathed in awe. "I can see _eternity_."

"Uh, right. Definitely high," Fred chuckled. "I gotta ask, though. What's eternity look like, Mio?"

"...it looks like... it looks like…"

Fred prompted, "It looks like what?"

"...a taco," she declared in a hushed whisper.

Despite himself, Fred started laughing. "A taco? Eternity looks like a taco!? Man, you really are tripping b-"

There was a crack like a gunshot as Hermione's open hand slammed into the side of his face. "Quiet, Yogurt!" she roared.

"Ow! What the h-"

Another sharp crack filled the room as her other hand caught the other side of his head. There was a series of frightened screams and sickened gags as the resulting spray of charred flesh left their bubble and managed to reach some of their classmates. "I said _quiet_! Yogurt doesn't belong on a taco!"

"I'm not-"

Fred's face was introduced to someone's palm for the third time.

"She said quiet, yogurt!" George snapped. His attempt to hide his grin was both futile and pointless. "Yogurt doesn't belong on a taco! You're lucky we let you stay here!"

Nodding approvingly, Hermione declared, "The lettuce is extra crunchy today."

"Well, I was feeling just a little extra crunchy when I got up this morning. Thanks for noticing."

"You know I'm getting you back for that later, right _lettuce_?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "That's _George_ , Fred. Why in the world would you call him lettuce. That's pretty strange, even for you. Sometimes I don't even know why I spend so much time with you."

"Because he's like a lightening rod. You just stand next to him and anything bad that happens'll hit him instead of you," George supplied. "You know I've never had anything worse than a bruise in my life? Well, aside from getting tagged by bludgers, but I'm kind of looking for trouble there. Even then, I've actually seen the things curve around me to get him instead."

Hermione hummed with a pensive look on her face. "Wow. It's like the universe itself hates him. Hey, maybe I should make friends with that Chew girl. I'd probably live forever."

"Uh, I don't think that's actually her name, Mio…"

"Yeah, Harry's right," Neville agreed. "It's Choo. You pronounced it wrong."

George sighed, "It's Cho, guys. _Cho_. Seriously, aside from us there's less than a dozen people in this school that actually have names. You could at least try to remember them."

"Uh, George? You realize everyone in this school has a name, right? Like, _literally everyone_. I realize we're pretty insular, but just because we don't know someone's name doesn't mean they don't have one," Hermione asserted. "Seriously, did you get into the eggs again? Who was on breakfast duty?"

"I'll give you a hint. Brother dear played a nice game of 'Stop, Drop and Oh Shit!' this morning after you wasn't even reaching for the eggs and Harry still nailed him."

Harry stared at him in confusion. "What? He did too. You even yelled out a warning and everything."

"I know," Fred giggled. "Seriously, you should know better than to listen to me."

"He's right, you know," George agreed. "Though, in the interest of fairness, I'm gonna have to make you suffer for that. I'm thinking something along the lines of, 'passed out in the Common Room, buried under a pile of stolen underwear' might do it."

"Ha. That's not-"

George grinned. " _Hufflepuff_. I'll leave you in Hufflepuff's Common Room. Guess who's underwear?"

Fred froze in mid laugh. His eyes widened as he turned his horrified gaze toward his brother. "Y- you wouldn't…"

"Go ahead and try me. We already know the girls can open it up from the other side. I'm pretty sure I know at least one person and two familiars that could just huck you through."

Hermione raised a fistful of fabric. "I could probably find some underwear," she offered. "People just keep getting more. It's like the stuff grows on trees."

"And you shouldn't use me to do bad things," Harry scolded him. "George _always_ asks me when he wants me to set something on fire."

"I do. For example: Harry, would you please-"

Fred threw his hands up and cried, "No! No underwear! No fire! I'm sorry, okay!"

George considered his brother for a moment. "Well, I am feeling generous. I guess I'll let you off easy this time. All you have to do is let Harry use the Water-Making Spell on you for a few minutes."

"What, seriously?" Fred asked incredulously. "That's it? You wanna get me wet?"

George nodded sagely. "Just three or four minutes. Maybe five, tops. Those terms good for you?"

"Hell yeah. Bring on the water."

Grinning, George made a grandiose gesture towards the younger wizard. "My good Sack, if you will…"

" _Aguamenti_ ," Harry muttered. As expected, a thin dribble of water quickly streamed out of his wand. But to Fred's surprise, it didn't simply dribble to the ground. Instead, it clung to the tip of his wand and formed a long, thin cord of liquid.

Fred stared at it. "Uh, what?"

"Well, as it turns out, Harry's really good at making things hurt people. It's a little worrying, really, but it's also pretty amusing and cool as hell. We haven't shown this to you yet, have we?"

His brother slowly shook his head.

"Well, take a good look."

"Aguamenti," Harry repeated quietly. He flicked his wrist, snapping it into the air, then brought it screaming around with a small motion of his hand. There was a sharp crack as part of a small branch abruptly became an explosion of splinters. People screamed at the sudden noise and resulting shower of sharp wood fragments. "Riptide Lash."

"I named it," Neville declared proudly. "It's a good name, isn't it?"

"I still liked Raging Torrent better," Hermione muttered.

"We talked about this. There's nothing 'raging' about it at all," George replied.

Fred stared at them in disbelief. "Wait a sec. Am I the only one that didn't know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Because we thought it'd be funnier to get you to agree to let Harry use it on you," Hermione answered with a shrug.

Fred though briefly before nodding. "Yeah, actually, that is pretty funny," he admitted.

"Alright, then. Let's get this over with. I've still some preparation to do for tomorrow. Aim for his hands, Harry. It'll make it harder for him to do whatever he's plotting tonight. No shame in getting every advantage we can."

"Uh, I don't suppose I get a head start, do I?"

George pondered briefly, then nodded. "Okay, tell you what. We add another two minutes to your punishment, and Harry won't move from this spot for thirty seconds. Deal?"

Fred nodded.

"Right. Go!"

The elusive prey turned and began to sprint for the door. "So long, su-"

Harry's strand of water hit the back of his leg and lashed around his ankle several times.

"Oh. You guys suck," Fred snapped, just barely managing to get the words out before his feet were yanked out from under him.

* * *

Angel sat atop the Astronomy Tower, humming as she leaned back against the roof's peak. In one hand she held her ribbon, idly dragging her hair back and forth. With the other she held her bell aloft, staring at it intently. Beneath the nearly full moon, her eyes shone an eerie reddish-silver that nearly matched the small instrument.

"There's no point in just sitting here. You might as well just come out," she suddenly declared.

The vines twined around her thighs shifted and tightened.

 _Knew?_

"You have an awful hard time staying still for a plant," Angel replied. "They move more when you're in them. Now out you come, Flower. I feel silly talking to my crotch."

The creepers slid and twisted in a way that tickled horribly. It was a pretty normal thing at this point, but she was careful not to react. She was fairly certain the spirit did it on purpose in an attempt to locate her most vulnerable spots. Determined not to giver her any more ammunition than she already had, Angel watched impassively as the spirit formed kneeling in her lap.

She frowned up at the other familiar. Not only was looking up into her face a very weird angle, but Orchid's head was doing a fairly good job of blocking the moon.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Flower?" she asked petulantly.

 _No._

"Why don't you go play with Lord Nev?"

 _Busy._

"Well, that doesn't mean you-" Angel cut off as a slim finger pressed against her lips. Slightly muffled, she asked, "What?"

 _Why?_ her companion asked curiously.

"What? Oh. The moon here's really weird. When it's so round and pretty and all silver, it looks like her eyes. It helps with the calmness. They were like that, so bright they chased all the other things away," Angel said softly, giving the bell a little shake. "The moon here doesn't shine as bright as her eyes did, but it shines brighter than they do now."

… _?_

"It's not important. It won't happen again, anyway. This one doesn't get a choice. We go with 'em whether they want us to or not," Angel declared dismissively. "Would you move? You're blocking the silver. My brain's getting fuzzy."

Orchid looked down at her, giving her a patented "confused plant" look.

Angel scowled back up. "Must be nice being a plant-thing. All you've gotta do is act dumb and you can do whatever you want."

Her companion continued to stare down at her, then very slowly opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

"Seriously, do I look like a flower bed to you?"

She barely had time to realize her mistake before Orchid's form hit her with a soft thump. The plant sprawled out across the body, silent giggles wracking her.

"Oh, very funny…" Angel muttered, her eyes once again focusing on the moon. "Sometimes you act really stupid, and not just for everyone else. It'd be really easy to scratch you to bits right now, you know. Lots of other times, too. You shouldn't be dumb like that."

 _Friends._

"Flower… that's just an excuse to be nice to each other. We're not… It'd be bad for everyone if we tried to crunch each other, so we're friends. But I could turn you into the shreddy cabbage stuff right now, and it wouldn't be bad for anyone but you."

 _Friends._

"I don't _have_ friends, Orchid. People… _things_ like me don't do that. I have my master and myself. That's it."

 _Foxes._

Angel sighed. "It made me a little happy, sure, even if they just don't want to get crunched. I don't mind if they want to play nice, since they wouldn't be a problem if they changed their minds."

Pushing herself up into a kneeling position, Orchid frowned down at the redhead.

"See? Get it now?" Angel asked.

In response, Orchid grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms into the air. Staring up in confusion, Angel kept them where the spirit had place them. Examining her spread palms, Orchid lowered her hands to the other girl's chest. The vines there twisted and moved, producing a small orchid - the same flower Neville had used as a sacrifice. The flower glowed an impossible shade of black in the silver moonlight.

Angel stared in shock as she lifted the flower, shoved it into her hands and closed her fingers around it. Orchid continued to look down on her, a distinctly smug look on her face.

"What the… That's your vessel? Did you seriously just hand me your vessel? Are you _insane_?" Angel demanded. "I could just-"

 _Friends,_ Orchid repeated again. She pointed to the flower and suggested, _Destroy?_

Angel held the small bloom aloft for a prolonged period of time before suddenly sighing. She let her head fall back onto the sloped roof with a thump and very carefully placed the flower back on her chest. "Why am I wearing your vessel, Flower? Why was is it on my chest?"

 _Safe._

"There's something wrong with you. All of you," Angel sighed. She reached up, grabbed the top of Orchid's head and - to the spirit's surprise, dragged her back down. "Don't get used to it. It's a one time thing."

Orchid shrugged and rearranged herself to be more comfortable.

"Would you like to hear a song, Flower? I don't have my instrument, but it's still a good one," Angel asked. "I know you'll understand what the words mean, even if you don't understand the words."

Nodding, Orchid twisted to look up at her expectantly.

"It's about a hero back in the Other Place. We didn't have a whole lot of those. It's called, 'The Girl With the Silvered Gaze' if you translate it fairly well."

Angel slowly inhaled and began to sing.

* * *

A/N:

So, those of you who read these may have notice that there's pretty much nothing in this chapter that I said there would be. There's actually a pretty simple explanation for that: large parts of this chapter were meant to be in a later chapter. I basically switched the two because I felt it worked better that way. This also meant I had to write pretty much an entire new chapter (yet again), resulting in a delay.

I feel like I struck a pretty good balance of crack and plot in this one, probably for the first time ever. It only too 20 chapters. Yay me. Still, there was quite a number of important bits in there. Once again, some are pretty obvious and some aren't. There's a couple that are cleverly disguised as stupid jokes, even.

Kind of a random note, but wizards are tough enough and their healing good enough that playfully trying to murder your friends isn't a big deal. Consider Quiddich, or some of their prank stuff. The things Harry and his friends do to each other is kind of awful by our standards, but it's really just playing around by theirs.

Good news for those of you that like my random, idiotic humor: next chapter is going to be pretty much batshit insane. I started to put a list of some of the random crap it involves here, but there's honestly no point. It made no sense. It actually 100% looked like I just chose a bunch of random words from the dictionary and-

And, oh shit. I just had a really bad idea.

So, next chapter needs a little more work to be done. I just decided on a rather terrible creative writing challenge for myself. I think somewhere between three and five should do it. See if you can tell which words I _actually_ randomly picked out of a dictionary. It may or may not be obvious, because there's a lot of truly random shit in there already.

In other news, work on my new projects is progressing slowly. Writing is like moving a boulder for me. I have a hell of a time getting it started, but it rolls like fucking crazy once I do. I've got a good chunk of one, "Unheroic" written now. Some of you may have gotten alerts that I'd already posted it. I did, but immediately decided it wasn't what I wanted and took it down.

Unheroic was formerly Not Quite Heroes, but I decided to rename it. Honestly, it's very quickly becoming something different than the original story was. Aside from a few characters and some parts of the first chapter, it's a completely different story.

On that note, I've barely started working on Magical Girl Mayhem. That one was actually supposed to be a recreation of a shitty SI story I wrote a decade ago and have since lost. I was going to try and make a newer, better and less sucky story of it, but it quickly became something completely different.

Oh well.

One more thing: I'm only going to be listing stuff I haven't listed in the glossary before from now on. I'll probably put the whole thing up every couple of chapters, but I see no reason to inflate my word count with constantly repeated information. So, this'll be the last full one for a bit. New stuff at top, everything else alphametized under it.

Yes, I know I spelled that wrong. That's how my three-year-old nephew says it, and like hell I'm gonna argue with him. He bites _way_ too hard.

Next chapter: "Prankocalypse Now"

* * *

Glossary of Shit That Probably Doesn't Matter (GSTPD)

 **Headboard Restraint Transfiguration**

A specialized form of transfiguration that can turn any wooden object into a set of restraints. Developed for the purposes of kinky sex, it was originally intended to secure a partner's wrists to a headboard.

McGonagall regularly teaches it as a beginner wood-to-something transfiguration, as it's a fairly easy place to its less-than-vanilla origins, it's a quite useful spell. It can be used to hold all sorts of things, not just the sweaty wrists of a flushed and panting witch.

Did reading that make any of you wet? Writing it sure did.

The traditional incantation, " _Lignum fit vincula,_ " means something along the lines of "Wood becomes bonds" in Latin. Sort of. Alternatively, the incantation, " _Inguine fit lignum_ " can be used.

 **Igniting Spell**

The Igniting Spell quite simply heats the tip of the user's wand to varying degrees. It's most often used for woodburing, firestarting and lighting joints. Pipes. It's used for lighting pipes.

For some reason the heat level is controlled by a small band dial that appears around the wand. The most likely reason for this is that the Creator happened to have a soldering iron sitting on their desk when they came up with the spell. There was also a hot glue gun there, but the idea of a spell that requires you to furiously pump a trigger to get a small amount of ineffective adhesive wasn't quite as funny.

Actually, that is pretty funny. I'll have to remember that one.

 **Quantum Claw Containment Sheath**

It isn't actually a sheath and it has nothing to do with quantum mechanics, but it was unanimously agreed that the name was totally bitchin', so it stuck. The physical structure consists of a slave bracelet connected to a pair of rings - one each above the second and third knuckle - on each finger. A spine clamped to the back of the nail is connected to the second ring by a locking swivel joint. When the spine moves, Angel's claw moves with it in a way that defies rationality. It is tucked neatly against the back of the first ring, safely shielded by a pair of ridges.

The device relies on the reversal of a spell that already makes no sense into something that somehow manages to make even less sense. Designing it cost Hermione fourteen boxes of tissues and three trips to the hospital wing for hypovolemia. It also left King with a bizarre compulsion to yodel every time he heard the word "cheese." Luckily, it only lasted a period of three weeks, during which Fred triggered it 87 times.

 **Water-Making Spell**

Why the hell is there a whole spell for filling a cup with water? This shit seems totally useless. Couldn't you have made, like, a garden hose spell that you can turn down to fill a cup? Probably not, since that'd actually be useful.

A little known fact is that, with the proper focus, the wizard can control the temperature of the water to a high degree. This is great for pouring a cool cup of water when your lazy ass can't be bothered to walk twenty feet to the sink. It's also pretty useful for dipping your roommate's hand in and making them piss themselves in their sleep.

Wait, is that why it's called the Water-Making Spell?

 **Water-Making Spell: Riptide Lash (Potter Custom)**

Proving that you can make anything useful with the proper motivation and focus, the Water-Making Spell has been reborn into something that doesn't completely suck. No longer will it be the retarded cousing that embarasses all the other spells at parties. Now it fulfills an actual purpose: inflicting horribly painful wounds on any that displease its master and catching branches so he can swing across gaps.

Okay, so that's two purposes.

Once again defying what passes for logic in their world, Harry keeps the produced water stuck to his wand tip and itself, forming a long cord. The magic whip affords a high degree of control and is made doubly frightening by how strangely adept Harry is at wielding it.

 **Firehole Gelly (Weasley's Wickedly Wonderful Wild Wizarding Wheezes (W6) Original)**

Another Weasley custom, Firehole Gelly is what they were actually trying to create when they discovered Boom Juice. With its creation, their quest to create wizard napalm from nothing but ingredients they found growing in the field out back was a success. It wasn't until they caught the gnomes eating it that the realized it we edible. It wasn't until George at some that they realized it tended to leave explosive charges in toilets.

Comes in 14 fruity flavors. But not banana. Never banana.

 **Mind's Eye Potion**

A concoction popular among seers and new-age hippies, the Mind's Eye Potion opens the drinker to an array of sensory input they'd never experience otherwise. When drunk by a hippie, it results in a decent trip and a sever case of false enlightenment. Consumption by a seer, however, often induces an artificial premonition. These premonitions are just as accurate as the seer's normal ones, but the potion has the unfortunate effect of degenerating their mind bit by bit.

It also makes a rather nice frosting if mixed with heavy cream and confectioner's sugar in a 1:2:2 ratio. Just make sure to mix the cream and potion well before adding the sugar. You don't want to know what happens if you add the potion to a cream / sugar mixture. Trust me, you just don't.

 **Incineration Spell**

A weak fire spell made for torching small bits of trash into oblivion. It was originally created as a way to dispose of snack wrappers without getting up. It only took 22 years for someone to realized you could use it to get rid of other kinds of paper, and another four for the revelation that you could use it on things that weren't paper.

The incantation means "burn to nothing" in Latin according to the finest free online translator money can buy. For all I know it might actually mean "Your mother's a whore" in Swedish. Either way, it's no worse than Rowling's faux-Latin crap.

 **Incineration Spell: Charge 'n' Torch (Potter Custom)**

A bizarrely miscast Incineration Spell that somehow weaponized a bit of harmless magic. Harry's personalized version results in a completely useless trickle of heat. Unfortunately for the safety and welfare of those around him, he can hold the spell and accumulate the heat on the tip of his wand. He can't move or do much more than talk while doing so, but a little over seven minutes and it's instant volcano time.

 **Shoving Spell**

One of those fun 'prank' spells, the Shoving Spell is something like an extraordinarily weak banishing spell. All it's really good for is giving someone a good push directly away from the caster. The push becomes more powerful as more magic is put into the spell, but the power:push ratio falls off pretty quick. This makes it fairly hard to do much more than slam someone into a wall with bone-crunching force.

 **Sanitizing Spell**

The aptly named Sanitizing Spell is pretty much the wizarding version of hand sanitizer. It gets rid of all the ickies and, unlike the standard Scourgify, won't make your head bleed. Of course, you wouldn't want to roll your head around in hand sanitizer either, so I'd skip this one too.

The incantation might mean "purify" or something. Hell if I know.


	21. Prankopolypse

Something Familiar

Chapter 21: "Prankopolypse Now"

AKA: "Farewell Sanity Points"

* * *

Monday, October 30, 11:57 PM

...

Monday, October 30, 11:58: PM

...

Monday, October 30, 11:59 PM

…

Tuesday, October 31, 12:00 AM

…

SYSTEM START

RUN PROGRAM:

LOADING PRANK MODULES

LOADED

LOADED

LOADED

LOADED

LOADED

-ERROR! NOT FOUND!

...

REMOVING MISSING VARIABLES AND OVERRIDING BROKEN DEPENDENCIES…

...

WARNING: EXECUTING INCOMPLETE PROGRAM MAY LEAD TO INSTABILITY, DAMAGED SUBROUTINES AND A COMPLETE CRASH OF HOGWARTS SYSTEMS

...

ADMINISTRATIVE OVERRIDE: BYPASSING REDSCREEN ERROR

...

PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE

…

PROGRAM START

INITIATING SANITY REMOVAL PROTOCOLS

...

WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?

* * *

The owlery was nothing of the sort.

It was, at the moment, a large empty room that was nearly devoid of life. In its lofty nooks and rafters there was not a single bird to be found. A few feathers drifted to the floor, evidence of the avians' hasty evacuation. The room's sole living occupant, a small figure in a cloak, watched as the last courrier vanished into the night. They smiled as it disappeared into the darkness.

 **Directive 2:** Deliver package to designated recipient

Recipient Location: Rvn-Flr02-Bed07

Recipient ID: J94HE04I2GHBSS21

Recipient Designation:

Requested Delivery Time: 12:15.00 AM

Estimated Delivery Time: 12:14.31 AM

The owl banked slowly around the castle, cutting a broad curve through the air as it glided towards Ravenclaw Tower. Its programming told it it was satisfied. Its flock had completed a difficult task, one just barely within their capabilities. Delivering the small packages to every student in the school in the requested time had been nearly impossible. Five hundred and seventy-two deliveries in fifteen minutes was pushing it, even given the short distance.

But with its eighth and final delivery, the task was complete.

The owl was instructed to feel proud for its accomplishment.

The owl was proud of its accomplishment.

It fluttered its wings once, easily drifting through an open window. There was always at least one open for just that purpose. The darkness meant nothing to the owl as it landed. The large, cubic package made a soft clunking sound as it hit the sleeping Ravenclaw's trunk. Per customer request, it released its burden and left without waiting for a confirmation of receipt.

Tuesday, October 31, 12:15 AM

The brown paper surrounding the package fell away of its own accord, revealing a simple wooden box. The front face of it was left partially open, revealing a complex arrangement of gears.

The box produced a faint, metallic click. The quiet sound was echoed four times over, coming from various points around the room. There was another chorus of clicks, louder than the last, followed quickly by third. By the tenth repetition, they were more than loud enough to disturb the sleeping students.

Cho stirred, groaning as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her thoughts were hazy, chugging along at a snail's pace as her brain tried handle her body's repeated demands for answers. Why the hell were they waking up at whatever the hell time it was?

The answer to that question came in the form a another loud click, drawing Cho's attention to the strange box sitting beside her bed. Even as she stared at it it produced a thirteenth click, then fell silent. The moment this happened, the gears on the front of the box shivered. A strange feeling of dread filled her as they slowly began to turn.

The feeling only got stronger when the mystery box began to produce a series of raspy notes.

 _All around the mulberry bush,_

 _the monkey chased the weasel._

 _The monkey thought 'twas all in good fun,_

 _POP goes the weasel._

Cho flinched back reflexively as the top of the box snapped open, shielding her face and preparing for the worst. Fortunately, her efforts were completely unnecessary. A small, fluffy bunny exploded out of the the container, bobbing back and forth on a large spring.

It held a sign that said, "Happy Halloween."

"What in the world…?" Cho muttered, gingerly reaching out and taking hold of the plush animal. There was a faint pop as it was separated from the spring. "Hey, they come off."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Mary asked from the next bed over. "And why did I get a lamb? I hate lambs."

"They're really cute."

"Yeah, well, it would've been nice if whoever did this waited for breakfast," Cho complained. She held the stuffed animal up and inspected it carefully. "It _is_ pretty cute, though. I think I might-"

The bunny's face split open, blooming like a six-petaled flower. The inside of it was made of a pink, meaty fabric. Little button teeth lined each part of what was formerly its face. The bunny unleashed a high-velocity blob of viscous goo, nailing her straight in the mouth. A moment later a thick, velvet tongue lolled out and traced a line up her cheek.

Cho did the completely rational thing. She screamed.

The bunny screamed back, producing a soul-rending howl. The maw gaped open wider as the creature lunged forward, plunging Cho's face into the embrace of its twelve button-lined lips.

Screams erupted all around the castle as every single student was simultaneously assaulted by a stuffed animal.

* * *

"I hate you so much right now."

"Oh, what's wrong Fred? I made that sheep just for you. Didn't you like it?" Hermione asked with a faux hurt look on her face. "Sometimes I think you just don't appreciate the things I do for you…"

"That slime crap got in my ear. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get slime out of your ear? I ended up having to summon the crap. My ears are still ringing."

"And Angel's not very happy with you either," Harry warned. "She took a really big bite out of that puppy before she realized it was fake. And now that I say it out loud, I'm realizing how disturbing that is."

"So I'll have Headwig bring her a dead rat or something. What I want to know is why you look so unimpressed," Hermione grumbled, fixing King with an accusing glare.

George nodded. He quickly reached up and straightened his hat as the motion nearly spilled it off his head. "Yeah. I hate to aid the enemy here, but charming all those boxes and animals must of been a major pain."

"The beasts were animated with a Charm Mirror Mirroring Mirror Charm," King began.

"A what?"

"It projects weak, unstable copies of the charms placed on a base object upon a number of similar objects. The effect is geographically limited and the results unreliable, so it is typically of little use. And yes, it is actually called that. It is most likely intended to be a humorous play on the idea of a mirror, paralleling its ability to reflect-"

"I'm pretty sure we all get it, King. Everyone but one, at least," George groaned. "Merlin, sometimes I hate wizards…"

Fred grinned at him and helpfully pointed out, "We _are_ wizards, brother," while waving a fork with a boiled egg on it in front of his face.

George twitched, reflexively reaching for the chicken embryo before hauling himself up short. Harry had shifted very unsubtly in a way that suggested the words, "ast, ut nihil" were on the tip of his tongue. Experience and several dozen lost layers of skin had taught George the younger boy was deadly serious.

The redhead slowly relaxed back into his seat, wiping a strand of doll from the corner of his mouth. "Well, I hate _you_ all the time, _George_. When you average it out, it means I hate all of us some of time," he reasoned, giving his brother a death glare.

"Hey! What'd you call me? I told you not to call-"

Screams erupted from the Hufflepuff tables as Fred shot across the aisle and slammed into several students from behind, bringing them down in a pile of flailing limbs and collapsing furniture.

The egg fell and hit the table, bounced once and spontaneously became a ball of charred embers. The right cuff of George's robe became a whiff of ash as he yanked his hand back. Frantically beating the sparks off what remained of his sleeve, he glared at Harry. The first-year was making a very valiant attempt to look innocent despite the strip of charred table between them.

"I wasn't going to!" he protested.

Hermione immediately brought her wand around on him. "Unless you want to find out if you're a better anti-Puff weapon weapon than your brother, _be quiet_!"

George immediately snapped into a perfect sitting posture and squeaked, "Yes ma'am." He was so focused on her that he barely seemed to notice the trail of burning threads making its way up his arm.

"Good. Now, what were you saying, King?" Hermione asked sweetly, lowering her wand.

Harry scooted his chair a little further away from hers.

"Well, that particular meta-charm is quite simple in execution and limited in utility. Furthermore, the boxes themselves were made with a simple Copy Me Spell, an easy and mostly pointless transfiguration. There is little call for inferior, mass-produced goods in our society. If only the same could be said of the muggle world," King sighed. "And evil stuffed animals are hardly creative. I will admit, however, I would have scored you lower had they been dolls."

"But… but… You showed me those spells!" Hermione protested.

King nodded. "Indeed I did. They were the most efficient way to accomplish your stated goals."

"Why would you teach me spells you wouldn't give me a good score for!?"  
The human disaster gave her an affronted look. "Why, I could hardly tell you something like that, could I? A judge should be neutral, and giving you such an advantage would not be sporting at all. I afforded you all the same support: I answered any question you put forth to me regarding your preparations to the best of my ability."

There was a faint giggling as Fred's chair scraped back. "Yeah, when King takes something seriously, he goes the whole sixty-nine yards," the furniture's owner declared from beneath the table. He slowly climbed back into the seat. About halfway up he paused to stared downward. The piece of french toast hanging from his mouth made him a bit hard to understand as he asked, "Hey, is this the same chair? Again? How many goddamned times have I been sent flying outta this thing?"

"Thirteen," Hermione and King responded together.

"That's weird. Why's there thirty-seven tally marks here, then?"

"You were pretty messed-up when you added the last one. On the upside, we discovered that your average wizard can't handle four Anti-Concussion Potions in an hour," Hermione informed him.

"Oh. And the house?"

"It's a penguin," Harry corrected.

Fred frowned at him. "Harrysack, I dunno what you've been smoking but this is definitely a house."

"You said it was a penguin."

"Fine. Penguin. Why's there a house-penguin on my death-chair?"

"You said it would remind you not to sit in Baron von Facecrusher, Chaivr of Dvoom. Your favke accent really suvcks, by the way," Hermione replied.

"And I'm guessing that's…"

Harry nodded. "Yeah… It's where you are. But at least it worked better than it did last time!"

"Yeah, that poor Hufflpuff. I'd be traumatized for life if you just walked up and drew a circle on my neck," Hermione added.

"I am quite certain it was a lizard, rather than a circle," King disagreed. "Quite a nice one, at that. I had no idea Red had such artistic talent."

"Yeah, but he said it was a circle," Hermione stated with a shrug.

"Uh… some 'Puff just sat there and let me draw a lizard-circle on their neck? Who the hell does that?"

George gave his brother a slight - and slightly evil - smile and said, "Well, to be fair, Aila did look like she was in a bit of shock."

The statement was met with Fred's wide-eyed stare. "I… walked up and drew a circle-lizard on Aila's neck…?"

"Yup. Right over the collarbone. She just kind of froze up, and no one else had any idea what to do. You'd think they'd never seen someone get molested with a quill before."

"There's something wrong with you. You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a quill," Hermione muttered. "I've told Harry it most certainly isn't normal, and that he's to set you on fire the next time you try to draw on his toes."

"But Mio, Lord Thumb was plotting rebellion!" Harry protested, holding up his hand. There was a small and rather detailed face drawn on the pad of the thumb. "I just couldn't knuckle down and deal with it myself. Only Commander P. Toe could prevent the nail-farious plans that were afoot. I don't know what would have happened if Fred hadn't aided me."

"You mean, 'If he hadn't given me a hand,' right?" Hermione sighed.

Harry frowned at her and gave her an upset look. "Mio, that was terrible. You should be disappointed with yourself for stooping so low…"

"Don't make me hurt you. I'm relatively certain only one of us will enjoy it."

"Look, my brother's bizarre quill fetish isn't important right now. We need to focus on the important issues here," George declared. "Namely: where the hell did he get french toast!?"

"George, could you please try to focus for two- Hey! That _is_ french toast!" Hermione exclaimed. "We don't have french toast! Where did you get that?"

Fred pulled the offending breakfast food from his mouth and dropped it on the plate. "Uh… I jacked it from some 'Puff. They've got a ton of it," he answered quietly.

"But… we don't have french toast. We _never_ have french toast," Harry whined. "I thought there wasn't any such thing as wizard french toast!"

"That doesn't seem fair at all…" Hermione said with a scowl.

George nodded in agreement and leapt up onto his chair. "This shall not stand!" he roared. "Harry, we're executing plan 27-C!"

Giving him a puzzled look, Harry protested, "George, we don't have a pogo stick and I don't really wanna spend the rest of the day in sticky robes…"

"No, Harry, plan 27-C! 27- _C_!"

A look of understanding crossed over Harry's face. "Oh! 27-C! Okay. But we have to- _Look_ , a distraction!" Harry suddenly shouted, pointing across the hall.

Hermione, King and Fred all reflexively turned to look. By the time they had turned back, Harry and George were gone.

"So, is anyone else really, _really_ ashamed of themselves right now?" Hermione inquired.

King and Neville both nodded.

"I'd say I can't help but feel like this is a bad thing, but it seems redundant considering I'm starting to feel like that about literally everything that happens around here," Hermione sighed.

King frowned, idly tapping a finger against the table. Each impact sound like someone had swung a bat into it and left a very visible dent. "You realize you could return to the muggle world if you so wished. You have only missed two months of education, and I have no doubt you would have no trouble catching up. In fact, I would be surprised if you were not still ahead, despite your lack of formal tutelage."

There was a prolonged period of silence as Hermione considered that option. Finally she sighed and softly asked. "But… who'd braid my hair? If I didn't have Harry and Neville, there'd be no one to do it. It'd be all messy again."

"Well then, I do suppose you are left without choice. For the sake of your hair. Assuming that you feel it is worth the trouble, of course."

"I'm pretty sure I'd rather listen to Harry scream at a shrub than go back to having no… to having messy hair," she declared, tugging at the short braid hanging over her shoulder. "I kind of like having people to fix it, even if they are a little odd. On a related note, is there a particular reason you're trying to murder your pancakes, Fred?"

Fred started, staring up at her in surprise. "What? I'm not trying murder-" Fred raised his hand, his eyes widening in shock as the pancakes, plate and all, came up with his knife. The stack of sticky breakfast foods slowly slid down the utensil, dribbling syrup all over his hand. "Oh."

"Those plates are made of metal, Fred, and you just put a hole in it with a butter knife," Hermione said as she observed the chunks of pastry running down his arm. "I think I'm well on my way to developing a fear of butter knives. If you look like you're about to throw that at an owl, I'm getting out of the Great Hall as fast as King can throw me."

"I am not sure how much I appreciate being used as a means of conveyance…"

"Then you shouldn't be so good at it, King… And I'm not gonna nightmare any owls with this, don't worry. I'm just feeling a little off, that's all," Fred sighed. He made a broad, dismissive gesture. As he did so, the knife decided to free its captive from its steely (silvery?) grasp. The heavy pewter dish went flying across the hall, its flight eventually terminating in a heavy clunk.

"My face!"

"Oh my god, Cho!"

"Damn. Someone must really have it out for that chick. How come like, every other thing we do hurts her?"

"That's not true at all. Some of it just humiliates her," Hermione disagreed. "Although last week, when she got hit with more the clothes acid stuff and slipped down the stairs on it, kind of did both."

"We really need to keep the… uh… we should name that crap."

"Anti-Garment Gel,' Hermione immediately suggested.

"...have you been waiting for someone to suggest we name it?"

"...no."

Fred sighed. "Right. We should keep the _Anti-Garment Gel_ away from Kitten, since she's on strict kill-on-sight and can somehow detect it a sealed, opaque container. Or, barring that, at least make sure there's someone with a little more… uh… something that isn't little around."

"Okay, now I'm worried. You just said something totally perverted and made it sound not the least bit perverted. What's wrong with you, Fred?"

The Weasley slumped slightly. "I just, uh, feel kind of bad…"  
King and Hermione stared at him like he'd just grown a fifth head with green skin and three eyes, and was currently using it to recite Shakespeare backwards in a language that had never existed in the mortal realm.

"What? I can feel bad about things!" he snapped defensively. "I just choose not to. A lot. All the time, really, but I can still do it when I feel like it!"

"Okay, so why in the world do you want to feel bad about this?"

"I don't! I just do!" Fred whined. "I can't help it. Aila… I can't believe I did something like that to her."

"Wow. I was kind of under the impression that you didn't like anyone but your brother and us," Hermione state, sounding impressed. "There's seriously someone other than us that you won't gleefully do horrible things to?"

"Uh, Mio? He turned your hair into snakes the other day," Harry pointed out.

"It wasn't anything more than a little friendly rough housing. I nearly threw him out the Common Room window with a Shoving Spell, so I'd say we're square."

"Nearly? I would've gone right out if I hadn't caught the sill! That's not 'nearly' at all!" Fred muttered.

Hermione nodded happily. "You see? Your hand was still in the tower. I didn't throw _all_ of you out, so it doesn't count. I'd be happy to try again if you don't stop pouting. You're a little bigger than an owl, though, so I don't think you've got much of a chance."

"I'm not pouting," Fred pouted. "I just… kind of feel like an ass. Aila… she's like Harry, but it's magic transport stuff that flips her out. She won't open her eyes the whole time she's on the Express. In the beginning of our first year I found her in the back cars with the big familiars. She was lost and freaking out because a Siberian Tiger was trying to pick her up and push her out the door."

"I can see that being disturbing."

"Yeah. So I brought her back up with us and King. I guess she doesn't have a lot of friends because she's kind of weird, but she's a sweet girl. She doesn't need any more crap, and I freak her out to begin with."

Hermione frowned and inquired, "What do you mean?"  
"She was really nice with us on the train, but now she won't even talk to me. She just kind of muttered something and gets the hell out of Dodge whenever I try."

Hermione studied him, a thoughtful look on her face. "When she muttered, is she looking at you or the ground?"

"The ground, usually. Why?"

"No particular reason," Hermione replied with a smile. "I guess it takes all kinds, right? I wouldn't worry about her hating you."

"Indeed. Just the other day I heard some of her housemates speaking of how she has been careful not to wash-" King's sentence was suddenly terminated as a serving platter slammed into his face at high speed.

Lowering her wand again, Hermione glared at him. "People should figure things out by themselves, King."

"Duly noted," King replied as he peeled the plate off his face. There was a very recognizable him-shaped impression left in it. He studied it critically. "You know, I think that is rather artistic. Something of an untraditional caricature."

"Wow. And people say I'm fu- Uh, King? Flip the table."

Without hesitation, King stood and literally sank his fingers into the hardwood tabletop. A mighty heave hauled it into the air, allowing him to spin it around. The table hit the floor with a tremendous crash as it was slammed down between them and Hufflepuff. Both wizards immediately vaulted it and crouched down behind it.

Hermione calmly caught her plate as it fall through the air. Sliding out of her seat to take a position next to the boys, she asked, "Do I want to know?" through a mouthful of bacon.

As if in answer to her question, a shadow passed over them. She just barely caught a glimpse of a large projectile as it sailed overhead. It shot by at ballistic velocities and slammed into the Slytherin tables. Sticky red fluid splattered in every direction as a dozen students were scattered to the winds. 'Puff and snake alike hit the floor, their bodies covered in crimson.

On the Hufflepuff side of the table, a young witch stared at the crimson strands falling from her hands in shock. She looked down at the girl crumpled at her feet. The fallen student's chest was a mess of red. Throwing her head back, the witch screamed, "Cho~~~!"

"What was she even doing there? Ravenclaw's on the other side of us…" Hermione asked. She wiped a gob of red off her cheek and smeared it across her toast. Taking a bite, she immediately turned her head to the side and spat it out. "Ugh. Cherry does _not_ go good with pumpkin spice. Why does everything have to be pumpkin spice this time of year?"

Fred sighed. "Cho's cousin is a 'Puff. Aila, actually. Please don't tell me Aila got hit…"

"Wow. She probably should have been standing on this side of the table. Is Aila the one that looks like she dipped her hair in ink?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, she didn't exactly get _hti_ hit… Is her hair really that color?"  
"Yeah."

"You're sure? Because that's a weird color," Hermione said with a frown. "Fred, please don't tell me you peeked on her while she was changing or something…"

"It was an accident."

"How do you perv on someone on accident?"

"King put me through a wall."

"Oh, that sounds reasonable, then."

A loud voice, very familiar but distorted enough to be unrecognizable, roared, "Damn it, First Mate Shaved Scrotum! I said Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff, damn you! Can't you tell the difference between a 'Puff and a poof!?"

Munching on her toast, Hermione turned around. There, up in one of the windows, was something that very strongly resembled a cannon. Someone who clearly wasn't George was standing atop it, dressed to the nines in flamboyant pirate garb. We're talking open, poofy shirt and everything.

A smaller wizard was crouched on the sill next to him, staring at the carnage. He was dressed in a much less flamboyant trouser and vest combo. Despite the fact that all he wore on his head was a bandanna, something made his face fuzzy enough to tell the whole hall he definitely wasn't Harry Potter.

"I'm sorry captain! It's the cannon, sir. The bore, she's all off," Scrotum apologized.

Not-George stomped and tossed his clearly fake hair in irritation. "I transfigured this cannon myself, Scrotum! I ougtta make you walk the plan for- Hey! Are those crepes!? Do they have crepes?"

"They look like crepes to me, sir," Scrotum confirmed. "Avast, thar be the golden treasure of the Hogwarts sea!"

"Scrotum!"

"Aye sir!"

The cannon swiveled and angled to point directly at the Slytherins.

"You'll be handing over that treasure, ye scurvy dogs!" Scrotum declared. "In the name of Captain Long Schlong Silver, drop your utensils and prepare to be boarded!"

" _You_!" a voice roared. "How dare you!? You dare do that to my students!?"

Scrotum and Long Schlong turned to stare at the staff table, examining Snape as he stood.

"Scrotum. Do ye be seein' what I be seein'?"

Scrotum nodded. "Aye captain. That be the Greasy Whale of Cauldron Scum Sea. He be a monster with nary to match, sir," he whispered.

"Today be the day the world knows our names, Scrotum. Today be the day."

Snape raised his wand in a menacing fashion. "You little bastards get down here right now, or I'll bring you down my-"

" _Artillery crew_!" Long Schlong roared.

" _Artillery crew_!" Scrotum immediately echoed.

There was a series of clunks and ominous scrapes. Hauled up on creaking ropes, cannons filled every window. Atop each massive gun stood a diminutive, floppy-eared creature.

Hermione gave them a considering look. "Wow. Bet they wish they hadn't made those windows bigger, huh? I'm pretty sure this is worse than losing a few owls…"

" _Load gra~pe shot~_!" Scrotum yelled.

The small figures raised their arms, prompting massive blobs of purple goo to appear. The blobs quickly vanished down the cannons' barrels.

" _Ta~ke a~im_!"

Snape paled as eleven canons locked onto the staff table, centered on him.

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Minerva, please deal with this," Dumbledore sighed. He waited a moment, then frowned when no response came. Turning, he stared at the empty seat next to him in confusion. "Minerva?"

Long Schlong grinned. "Never challenge a pirate, ye filthy landlubber. Scrotum, silence the foul wretch."

"Aye captain! _Fire_!"

The first volley devastated the staff table as all eleven canons unloaded blobs of high-velocity grape jam. It was hard to say whether it was from sheer shock or simple inability to evade, but the entire staff was sent reeling by the sudden assault. From there the cannons fired in sequence, one or two firing

in turn while the artillery crew reloaded the rest.

Captain Long Schlong Silver stood atop the center cannon the entire time, laughing like a madman as he rearmed the cannons. Scrotum remained crouched by his side with a look of extreme concentration on his face. Occasionally he'd twitch his fingers or grit his teeth as a cannon made a particularly sudden movement. Every now and then Long Schlong would call a shot, prompting his first mate to bring around one, two or even three cannons on the unfortunate professor who'd started to raise their wand. Because of this, their assault went on completely uninterrupted.

It seemed even the 'greatest wizard in England' had a hard time casting while being pelted with five-kilogram blobs of jam.

Go figure.

McGonagall, seated at the end of her house's tables, watched the devastation her students unleashed with a faintly amused smile on her face. To be honest, she was fairly impressed. Considering their level of education, the transfiguration and spellwork that went into the cannons was laudable. George - Sorry, Long Schlong - was replacing the Acceleration Charms as fast as the elves could ram ammo down the barrels. Scrotum, for his part, was showing a truly remarkable ability to control all eleven guns at once. This went doubly so considering how adept he was at cornering, cutting off and staggering the assaulted staff. Any attempt at retaliation was ended almost as soon as Long Schlong called out a target.

It had taken his son all of two months to further than James would have ever _dared_ to go. Minerva wasn't sure whether her old student would be proud or jealous.

She was slightly amused to note that it took thirteen minutes for the pirates to exhaust every bit of jelly, jam, marmalade, gelatin, whipped cream, whipped butter, syrup, meringue, pudding in the castle, along with a single, very large coconut. She was _very_ amused to note that that last one had probably brought an end to the Snape line.

She'd have to find a way to subtly reward them for that.

With a scream of, "And let that be a lesson to ya, ye filthy landlubbers!" the pirates and cannons hastily dropped down and vanished from the windows.

McGonagall let out a giggle that was quite unsuited to her age. Looking down at the note she'd found in her seat, she smile again and muttered, "Smart boys…"

 _This is a really bad place to sit._

Hermione peeked at the remains of the staff table over their makeshift barrier. The Great Hall was an absolute ruin. There wasn't a square millimeter that hadn't been covered with something sticky. That entire end of the hall was a wild swirl of conflicting colors. Staff Members were buried under piles of jam and plastered to the wall, and some had actually been blasted up to the Grand Staircase's landing. A few were still standing, caked in filthy, but…

"Why aren't they moving?"

King frowned as he examined them. "Oh dear. I do believe they put hardening charms on their ammunition. That is rather unfortunate for their hapless targets, isn't it? I certainly hope they have a way to break out, as such charms can last awhile. It is somewhat hard to use a wand while frozen, though…"

"So it's like that magic shell crap you put on ice cream?" Fred asked, earning an agreeable nod.

Hermione shot him a suspicious look, but turned back to glare at the unmoving adults, Hermione asked, "Are you saying they just brought down _every_ adult wizard in the school with a bunch of jam?"

"They missed the gaffer," Fred pointed out. "Probably a good choice, that. There's a lot of witches I'd like to see covered in whipped cream, but she definitely isn't one of them. Plus, she'd probably murder the hell out of us all."

"So… what I'm getting out of this is that jam is basically wizarding Kryptonite. I swear, my life gets weirder every day," Hermione sighed. She jumped slightly as a large platter slammed down on the table in front of her.

"Well, it is kind of fun, though," George said from behind her. He gestured towards the plate with a flourish. "Plus, you get crepes!"

Another platter touched down next to the first. "And french toast!" Harry added.

"We got some Spam, too. Don't blame me. Blame the Ravenclaws. Seriously, Spam?" George muttered, tossing the offending plate onto the table.

"If you are not overly fond of Spam, why on Earth did you bother to take it, Red?"

Together, Harry and George replied, "It was there."

"You guys were up on the cannons the whole time. When did you even take this?" Hermione asked as she munched on a crepe. "Thanks for saving some whipped cream, by the way."

"Crepes without whipped cream?" Harry gasped. "Do you think we're _savages_ , Mio? Is that what you think?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, you're probably right," George agreed. "We actually jacked all that crap before we even changed clothes." He tugged at his perfectly clean robes. "The rest was just for show."

"It was a good show," Hermione grudgingly admitted. "How in the world did you control all those cannons at once, Harry?"

Harry held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "With my fingers."

"Yeah, we got the idea from how Kitten and Flower aimed the catapult."

"But… you had eleven cannons."

Harry nodded happily. "But I used _all_ my fingers."

Fixing him with a disbelieving stare, Hermione grumbled, "Harry, I don't know whether I should hit you, hit Fred, hit you both, or hit Fred."

"...why am I on there twice?"

"Oh, come one, Mio. It's not like I had a puppet on it."

Hermione twitched and began to turn towards the nearest twin.

"Harry, subtly change the subject," Fred squeaked.

"Can you put the table back, King? I don't like how the crepes are balanced on the edge. They might fall, and I want to see how much I can eat before I rainbow. Then I want to see if I can eat more," Harry declared.

"One: don't eat until you rainbow. Two: of course you'll be able to eat more. Three: don't rainbow just so you can eat more. Four: I'm not lending you my mouthwash," Hermione rattled off. "And five: _someone_ covered the top of the table in sticky stuff."

George huffed, "Well, that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't decided to use it as a shield."

Looking up and down the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. About 90% of it had been completely massacred. "No, I think it probably would have. Seriously, guys? Ravenclaw?"

"Scrote was so into it that he was just firing whenever I yelled a name. I wanted to see if he'd do it _anyone_ I called out, or just the staff," George explained with a shrug. "After the first one, I just kept doing it because it was funny."

"I do not believe it is appropriate to refer to Harry as such, Red…"

"No, it's okay."

Hermione sighed, "Harry, do you even know what a scrotum is?"

"It's me. It's hairy."

Fred giggled. "Good for you, Harry. You're ahead of the curve."

Groaning, Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I'm pretty sure this is why people turn into serial killers."

"Probably. Can I have a crepe?"

` " _No_!" Harry and Hermione shouted together, pulling the platter back protectively. Two wands were immediately leveled at him. There was a small point of light already gathering on one…

"Whoa, chill! You can keep them! No need to verify me!"

"Our crepes," Harry hissed, but he still turned his wand aside and released the incineration spell.

"Oh my god! Cho's on fire!"  
Fred sighed, "For the love of Merlin, please tell me you missed Aila…"

Peeking over the table, Harry asked, "Is she the one with the _really_ black hair? The real _really_ black hair?"

"Yeah, she…" Fred trailed off and gave Harry a suspicious look. "How do _you_ know it's real?"

"Uh, well… I _did_ miss her. Technically. I didn't burn _her_ at all…"

Hermione turned and pulled herself up to peek over the table again. "Wow. It really is that black. I'm kind of jealous."

"Of, for Merlin's-"

"Hey, uh, random question. Is wizard-jam flammable?" Hermione suddenly asked.

George frowned. "Only the orange marmalade. Why?"

"No particular reason. On a completely unrelated note, we should probably be somewhere that isn't the Great Hall right now."

"Oh. Scrote, grab the crepes. It's a nice day to have breakfast under the sun, I'm thinking.

* * *

"I- I just don't understand why these things are happening… Is someone out to get me? Did I do something wrong?" Cho whimpered. "Am I being punished for something?"

Aila look over at her cousin with a frown. The older girl _had_ definitely had a rough year so far. It was almost like some all-powerful, otherworldly force was driving the events happening around them, forcing Cho into awful situations for its own amusement. The thought, of course, was immediately dismissed for the foolishness it was. Even assuming there was some sort of Creator, surely they wouldn't be so crass as to abuse an innocent girl because it made them giggle.

"It's not so bad, cous. It's just a little jelly," Aila attempted to comfort her.

"And whipped cream, and jam, and marmalade, and whatever the hell else that was," Cho sniffled. "And that's not even all! I've been hit in the eye, had owl splashed on me and keep ending up naked somehow!"

Aila tilted her head and gave he cousin a confused look. "Mm… what's wrong with being naked? You're naked with me a lot!"

"That's because you _drag_ me to that old classroom you transfigured and _force_ me to bathe with you."

"It's hard to wash my back, and the bath's re~ally big. It's more fun with you."

Cho sighed. "Someday someone's going to walk in on us and really get the wrong idea, you know. The last thing I need is for everyone in the school to think we're 'kissing cousins.'"

"But we do kiss."

"On the cheek, Aila. Or the forehead. That's not the kind of thing I'm talking about," Cho snapped. "I meant on the lips or… other… places."

Aila placed a finger to her lips and thought for a moment. "You mean… like the neck? I've kissed you on the neck before."

"You _bit_ me on the neck. In your sleep."

"Well, you shouldn't wear perfume to bed. Especially if it smells like apple pie," Aila huffed. "You've no one to blame but yourself."

"I wasn't even in the same room, Ai. And maybe _you_ don't mind being naked in front of everyone," Cho muttered, running her eyes up her cousin's robed form, "but I certainly do."

"Why?"

"Because life isn't fair, that's why. I don't know what you eat, but- Eek!"

Aila gave her cousin, who had suddenly stopped short, a curious look. "Buteek? Is that a bad thing?"

"No, Ai! Something just yanked my.. thong!"

Aila tilted her head again. "I thought you didn't like thongs. Why would you wear them?"

"I don't!" Cho growled as she hopped around with one hand down the back of her skirt in a very unladylike fashion. "At least I wasn't until something yanked my panties straight up my- Gah! There we go."

Frowning, Alia declared, "That doesn't sound very nice at all. I hope you wipe good, cousin. You should _always_ wipe good."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an- Eek! Damn it!"  
"Again?"

Cho scowled and stomped on a flagstone, carefully not actually passing over it. "Here! Right here! Someone did something!"

Alia looked a the stone curiously, then briskly walked over it. "Cousin, it's not doing it. It's not doing _anything_ at all.

Frowning, Cho examined the stone. She was pretty sure it was the culprit, but… now she had to know. With a sigh, she stepped across the stone and immediately squealed and grabbed her rear.

"Are you alright?"

Cho paused, examining Aila's waist suspiciously. "Aila, are you walking around without underwear?"

"Yes I am. It feels very strange."

"Why are you walking around without underwear, Aila?" Cho sighed.

"Oh~, that's because I ran out. Yours kept going 'poof.' I gave you my last pair yesterday," Aila happily declared.

Cho stared at her. "Aila, what the hell are you thinking? You can't just give me all your underwear and walk around without any."

"Oh. Well, it's okay if I didn't give you _all_ my underwear, right? I didn't give you any of my bras. I would have but I don't think they'd fit, so it seems like a silly thing to do."

Cho twitched. She turned away from her cousin and immediately started walking so the other girl wouldn't see the annoyed look on her face. It always made her all pouty, which made Cho hug her and apologize, which resulted in Cho being stuck in place until Aila was done using her as a cuddle toy.

Sometimes Cho really wondered if Aila actually _was_ interested in the 'kissing cousins' thing, but she was relatively certain she wasn't even on the side of the equation Aila was interested in. There were no words that could describe how happy she was about that. Lord knows Aila's over-affectionate nature caused enough rumors about them to circulate as it was.

"Aila, sometimes I swear you-" Cho suddenly cut off in a full-blown shriek. The others had been little more than squeaks compared to this one. She dropped to her knees, slapping her hands over her crotch.

"Oh dear. Another thong?" Aila asked.

"No," Cho gasped. "Wrong side."

"You know, I think I might just stop wearing panties. They don't seem to be doing you much good…"

Cho nodded. "Ai? Would it be weird if I asked you to help me take off my panties in the middle of the hall?"

"Not at all. Hold your robes up."

"I meant I wanted you to keep watch, Ai," Cho sighed. " _Keep. Watch._ "

* * *

" _A hundred_?" George demanded. "A hundred melvin traps? Nev barely managed forty wedgie matrices! You've gotta be freaking kidding!"

"Nope. Even hundred. There's twenty-one just on the Grand Staircase. Anyone that wants to send an owl is gonna have a _real_ bad day," Fred said proudly.

"You cheated," Hermione accused. "You must have cheated. The rules say we couldn't actually _deploy_ anything until midnight. You're okay at charms, but you're not good enough to lay down a hundred of those in six hours."

"You cut me to the bone, Mio. You hurt me right here," Fred said, wiping an invisible tear from his cheek and patting his crotch.

George sighed, "Man up, brother. She hasn't sacked you in at least three days."

"Huh. I know I felt weird this morning… anyway, I didn't cast them all last night. I made a mixture of water, heavily diluted Sticking Solution and a little chalk. I bottled the crap, put the charms on them and the put preservation charms on the bottle so the didn't decay. Open the phial, pour the mixture and let it dry. Boom, fourteen hours of pain."

The others were speechless as they subjected him to their shocked gazes.

"Oh, come _on_! It wasn't _that_ impressive!" Hermione protested. Something about the way she said it made it clear she wasn't quite convinced herself.

"You know the rules," George sighed. "King's judge, jury and executioner. What he say goes."

Hermione scowled at him. "You're just saying that because he gave you points for a fire you didn't mean to start. That was _so_ unfair. You two shouldn't be in the lead at all!"

"Details, details," George waved the complaint off. "You alway get so caught up in the details, especially when you're right."

Fred grinned as he took a bite out of his roast beef sandwich. He froze for a second, frowned and examined the sandwich more carefully. "Harry, why is my roast beef sandwich a BLT?"

"You need more green things. You should have some variety. It's good for you."

"Fair enough," Fred said with a shrug, taking another bite out of his lunch. "Where the hell'd you get the bacon, anyway?"

"Oh, it was from breakfast."

"Huh. I didn't know you had a Preservation Pouch."

Harry held up a bit of bacon and studied it. "I don't. It's been in King's pocket."

"All morning, huh? I thought it was a little saltier than normal," Fred said, taking another bite. "You need lighter robes, your highness. Sweating so much can't be good for you."

Hermione made a disgusted face. "Ew."

"Aw, it's just a little sweat-covered, probably spoiled bacon. I've already had worse half a dozen times this year. A little food poisoning is pretty minor compared to some of the stuff that happens around here."

"It really makes me wonder about my life when I hear a statement like that and agree with it," Hermione grumbled.

"And about the points: don't worry. You're not gonna be anywhere near me after lunch, anyway," Fred stated with a smug smile. "Not after what I've got Kitten and Bubbles doing for me. I'm about to… wash you away." He waved his wand in the air, producing a sudden sound.

 **/** **\- Go Here - Click Button.**

Hermione sighed. "What did we say about providing yourself with rimshots, Fred? You just ruined your three day streak," she said sadly as she got up and started walking around the table.

Fred started to get up, only to be slammed back into his chair by the hand suddenly holding his shoulder.

"This is an intervention, brother. I'm doing this because I love you, not because I find a little witch bag-tagging you hilarious," George said with a happy grin. "Which I do, by the way."

"Uh, Fred? Before Mio subjects you to crippling pain, could you answer a question?" Harry asked weakly. He was giving the other boy a frightened look, pale-faced and shaking slightly.

The rest of the table turned to give him confused looks, Hermione going so far as to halt in her menacing approach.

"Uh, sure. What's up, Scrote?"

"We are _not_ calling him that," Hermione muttered.

Still quite clearly worried, Harry started tapping his fork against the table in an agitated fashion. "This… uh, thing. This thing, it's happening soon?"

Fred grinned. "Right in the middle of lunch, Scrote."

Hermione glared at him and whispered, "You just earned another one."

"...and it involves water?"

Rolling his eyes, Fred replied, "No, Sc- Harry. I've got a water elemental helping me out with some sand. Of course it involves water."

"Like, a lot? Enough to get down here and get us wet?"

"Uh, yeah. Harry, what's up?"

"Nothing!" Harry squeaked. "But when you disappear, I'll lie and say you were a great guy!"

The statement earned him another round of confused looks.

"Harry… Why would Fred disappear?" George asked slowly.

The younger boy gave him a faux shocked look. "Who said anything about disposing of the evidence!? I didn't say anything about disposing of the evidence! You can't prove anything!" he squealed.

George stared at the boy. "Harrysack, you're acting weird. Weirder. You're acting weirder than you usually act. For you guys, that's kind of an accomplishment. What the hell did you do?"

"Uh, what time is it?"

George looked at his arm. "12:58, 12:54, 1:02, 8:15, and 12:57. Son of a bitch…"

"You'll see in two, six, negative two, four hundred and thirty-five and three minutes," Harry muttered.

The Great Hall's doors slammed open. They didn't smoothly open on their own, they rocketed around on their hinges at a speed they'd probably never achieved before. The massive oak doors slammed into the wall with a tremendous crash, drawing startled shrieks from several students.

"Or now. Now works too. Sorry, Fred," Harry muttered.

A young woman, most likely in her late twenties, came marching into the hall. To say she walked in like she owned the place would be like saying the sun was kind of bright. She walked in like everyone present should be _grateful_ she was gracing the room with her presence.

Each step produced a sharp snap as the heels of her stiletto-heeled leather boots - thigh high and sporting an unusual number of straps and metal buckles - slammed into the stone. Her minidress was cut high and low enough that it probably would have been considered scandalous even if it _hadn't_ been made out of a material strongly resembled latex. Three thick leather belts with heavy metal buckles were cinched around her abdomen, pressing her body into a shape that probably should be illegal.

Her hair, jet black with a purplish tinge - was wrapped in a tight bun behind her head. The edges of pins securing it glittered ominously in the afternoon light.

Tucked into a position halfway between her hip and back was a honest-to-god riding crop.

"Dude. Who ordered the dominatrix?" George asked in a whisper.

Harry slowly raised his hand and admitted, 'Uh, I'm pretty sure that was me…"

He was once again subjected to a series of shocked stares.

"I love you guys," George said quietly. "Every time I think you can't be more awesome, you prove me wrong. It's like you take it as a challenge."

Fred, his face pale, whispered, "Oh shit."

She marched her way up the aisle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff without so much glancing to either side. It was as if the students around her didn't so much as exist. She finally stopped at the end of their tables and stared at the devastation Harry and George had left in their wake.

She favored Dumbledore - who had just about finished breaking out of his shell - with a smile. There was no warmth or kindness in it at all.

"I see you're maintaining order just as well as usual, old man," she said in a cold voice. "It's no wonder you're hailed as our greatest wizard. The way you handle a room full of children is truly admirable."

"Vasia?" Dumbledore said with a surprised look on his face.

She looked back at him with a mock-shocked look of her own. "Oh, you _remember_ me! I was quite certain you'd forgotten, considering we haven't so much as spoken in thirteen years. It's quite remarkable so many mail owls were lost on their way to my _beloved_ mentor. They can be so unreliable."

Dumbledore glared at her. "What are you doing here, Vasia? You know outsiders are not permitted in Hogwarts without invitation."

"Oh dear. It seems my most recent owl lost its way as well," Vasia gasped. "If it hadn't, you'd certainly know that I _am_ here by invitation. I've even gone through the proper channels and everything. Hello, Minerva," she called, giving the deputy headmistress a sweet - actually sweet - smile. "It's quite lovely to see you again."

Albus glared at McGonagall. "Minerva? Is this true?"  
"It is, Albus. Like all the paperwork you don't complete, her request was passed into my purview."

"It must be _so_ hard to run a school, Minerve," Vasia lamented. "How _ever_ do you cope?"

"As it turns out, doing two jobs is only twice as hard as one," Minerva replied. "Luckily, both are quite demanding, so I manage."

"We will be talking about this later, Minerva!" Albus barked, earning a slight smile. "And _you_ , Vasia, will leave right this moment! You are not welcome here."

"As I said, I am here with permission. Are you growing hard of hearing, old man, or has age simply made you senile?"

There was quite a bit of surprised muttering around the hall.

"As _headmaster_ , I am revoking that permission. Leave."

Vasia gave a theatrical gasp. "Oh my! How cruel!" she declared. Her expression of shock quickly faded, replaced with a slight smile that could only be described as predatory. "But I'm afraid that is something you simply cannot do. You see, though you've claimed this school as your own little plaything, you still lack the authority to overturn our ancient laws."

Dumbledore gave her a suspicious look. "What ancient laws?" he demanded warily.

"I am here - by ancient right - to consult with my lord and hear his wishes as to how I am to act as his regent. Even had I not obtained permission to be here, my right cannot be denied. I could simply take him from Hogwarts for a while, which I would still be quite happy to do."

There was a look of triumph on the headmaster's face as he began, "Mr. Zabini-"

"-would not be my lord, even if he was head of House Zabini," Vasia broke in.

"What?"

Vasia produced another mock gasp. "Oh dear. I knew I was forgetting something! How clumsy of me!" she declared in a mocking tone. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Vasia Demi Potter, duly appointed regent of House Potter. I would say it's nice to meet you, but it hardly seems worth the effort when we'd both know I was lying."

Dumbledore stared at Vasia.

Harry's friends stared at him.

Minerva continued eating her pancakes.

"What?" Dumbledore asked, his face a mask of shock.

There was a sharp crack. Several Gryffindor screamed, shrieked or shouted as they desperately scrambled away, eyes fixed on the crop that had just slammed into their table.

"I said I'm here to see my lord, you old bastard," Vasia replied in a tone very, very different from the one she'd been using until now. Her exaggerated, sickly-sweet voice was instantly replaced by something that could accurately be described as harsh and domineering. "Try to stop me and we'll have a problem that even you can't come out on top of. I'll grind you under my boot until you're nothing but dust, and I'll enjoy every moment of it. So go ahead, decrepit ass. Try it."

Dumbledore stared at her for several seconds, then turned towards McGonagall. "Is this true?" he demanded of her.

"Of course it is, Albus. Claiming something like that would be incredibly stupid if it wasn't true," Minerva declared, waving a forkful of pancakes at him. "Vasia was kind enough to send us official notices from both the Ministry and Gringotts. They've been sitting on your desk for two weeks."

"And you didn't feel the need to inform me?"

Minerva shrugged. "It been sitting right on top of the pile. I even moved it to the top everytime you covered it, and left it there when I collected what was overdue."

"As amusing as demonstrating your incompetence is, you hardly need my aid for that. If you're done waving that little prick of yours around, I'll be taking my lord now,"

"Young lady, we are not-"

* * *

Angel sat atop the Astronomy Tower, staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. Even after two months, she was having a hard time getting used to it. There was so much open space here. Even the so-called "Forest" was nearly nonexistent compared to what she was used of. The trees were far enough apart for a pair of wagons to pass side by side. There was no thick, clinging mist that chilled the bone and veiled the eyes.

The Forbidden Forest would have been considered Paradise where she came from. If a place like this existed in the Other Place, the soil would be stained by the blood of thousands. There wasn't a single mortal alive that wouldn't part flesh to claim land like this. A place where you didn't have to painstakingly scorch the trees and salt the ground was worth dying for. Worth killing for.

And, from what she understood, it was like this _everywhere._ Like this, or better.

It was so strange.

 _Stop._

Angel started in surprise. "Flower? How long've you been on my boobs?"

 _Breakfast._

"Huh. I usually notice when you get all wiggly outta your seed…"

 _Preoccupied._

Angel sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I don't have many good memories of Khel'se'ti," she said softly, brushing her fingers against her bell. It produced a slight, cheerful jingle. "I suppose thinking about it depresses me just a little."

 _Stop._

"Stop thinkin' or stop having the sads?" Angel giggled.

 _Yes._

"Mm~, okay. But only 'cuz I feel like it," Angel agreed, "and not 'cuz you told me to. You're not _my_ queen, you know."

 _You ready?_

"Huh? Oh, yeah…" she replied. She tried to tilt her head to see the eagle that was perched there. It didn't work, for reasons that should be quite obvious. "Ready as ready as… ready… can be… ready? Uh, _I'm_ pretty sure that didn't make any sense. That's… kinda scary..."

 _We go?_

"As soon as the Owlverlord gets here. Oh, nevermind. There she is."

Headwig shot through the sky and came to a halt hovering in front of Angel. As usual, she was flying in a manner more fit for a hummingbird than an owl.

"General Owlverlord. Report," Angel barked.

 _In position,_ Headwig informed her. _Strike ready. Operation go._

Angel leapt to her feet and threw her arms in the air, nearly dislodging the eagle. "Yay! I had lots and lots of bored," she declared as Headwig landed on her shoulder. "Good work, Headywig. Stuguimpumis, let loose the dogs of war!"

 _No dogs._

Angel faltered. "What?"

 _No dogs,_ the eagle repeated.

"Whadda you mean we've got no dogs of war? What happened to our dogs of war?"

 _Gone. Loosed._

"You already loosed them!? You weren't supposed to do that! Why did you do that!?"  
 _Piddle break._

"I told everyone to go before they got in position! Now what are we gonna do?"

 _Use mice?_

"No, the mice of mild discontent _aren't_ good enough. They're mice! How are Chitter and Rumpus supposed to be loosed? They'd get hurt!"

…

"Okay, you know what? You're demoted. You get the demotes. You are no longer Sergeant in Charge of Losing. Now the Owlverlord gets to loose. Are you happy? Now poor Heady has to do _two_ jobs, because you loosed the dogs of war early!"

 _Failure_ , Orchid added.

The eagle hung his head in shame.

"Sigh. Owlverlord, let loose the eagle of supreme incompetence!"

Headwig buzzed up and belted the eagle across the back of the head. The eagle obediently let loose a piercing cry.

As noted before, it isn't easy to translate Animal to English. Animals communicate via concepts rather than words, and many of the concepts are quite simple. However, if you _could_ accurately translate Animal into a more complex language, the cry would sound something like:

 _Troops! Let those suckers have it!_

All through Hogwarts, dozens of familiars perked up.

To a large extent, the various animals in the castle were generally inclined to listen to and obey Angel. It made sense in a way, given the way animal tended to recognize the most powerful and dangerous of the lot as alpha. While she certainly couldn't command them like their masters could, and they would never obey her if it conflicted with their master's interests, they did generally do what she wanted them to. The only exceptions were particularly intelligent beasts, like kneazles, who could sometimes be a bit difficult to deal with.

For the reason noted above, a large portion of the castle's familiar population had been scattered around the halls and patiently waiting for nearly an hour. An observant student may have noticed this odd behavior, and perhaps even noticed there were more familiars out and about than normal. Given their tendency to nap, wander around and lurk in the walls, only around a third of the smaller beasts were generally visible at any given time, but today the number was much larger.

Of course, they _were_ "just" familiars, and familiars did strange things all the time. Most students' eyes just slid right over them, not even noticing that'd they'd just passed the fourth dog in that hallway alone.

Maybe they'd be more careful in the future.

At the eagle's cry, every patiently waiting animal moved a single foot closer to the nearest wall. It wasn't much, but it _was_ enough to open the entrance into the tunnels they'd been stationed by. The moment the bricks began to slide open the familiars turned and hoofed it, pawed it or high-tailed it away, shooting down the hall and diving behind the sandbag barriers that had been constructed across the doors of empty classrooms and broom closets throughout the castle.

There was an ominous rumbling noise.

No one really knew how extensive the familiars' tunnels were. The only ones that had even the faintest inkling were the familiars themselves and the occasional animagus, and the animagi tended to avoid them like the plague. Not being familiars meant they got lost easily, and couldn't even open the entrances without aid.

However, there was one thing you could say for certain about the tunnels:

They were large enough that Lady, working her ass off all night, had been unable to actually fill them with water. She had, however, made quite a valiant effort.

This is probably a good time to note that, for completely unrelated reasons, the water level of Black Lake had dropped a full foot overnight.  
Water surged out of the tunnels. No, water _erupted_ out of the tunnels, gushing forth like someone had kicked Old Faithful over sideways and jammed it into a wall. The entrance, perhaps sensing the space they normally filled was occupied, remained open long after the familiars had fled. The liquid quickly filled halls, poured out windows and flooded the halls.

Oddly, some of it didn't seem inclined act like it should. Enough water remained behind to cover every bit of floor in the castle two feet deep, even when it clearly had to defy physics to do so. Even the stairs were covered, the liquid forming a second, bizarre set atop them.

Angel watched with satisfaction as it burst from every window simultaneously.

"Good work men, women, neutered, ungendered and other!" she crowed. "C'mon, Pretty Flower. We gots to get to the trees and help your Keeper!"

* * *

Fred closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began to pray.

 _Please, by the grace of all that is holy in this world, please let them have messed up._

Unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered. Well, technically they _were_ answered, just not in the way he wanted. Had he been praying for countless gallons of water to forcibly pour into the Great Hall, washing students out of their seats and burying the entire room under several inches of water, he would have been set. It was rather regrettable that the answer to his prayers was pretty much the exact opposite of what he'd been going for.

Vasia didn't so much as twitch as the flood surged around her, submerging her lower legs in a disgusting mix of water, jelly, jam, meringue and a dozen other sticky, wet substances.

Fred whimpered.

"Your ability to manage a school never ceases to amaze me. You truly are the greatest wizard in England," Vasia said with a sneer. "This place is clearly unfit for a meeting with my lord. I'll be taking him to Hogsmead."

"If you think-"

There was an explosion of water right next to the headmaster. A surprised look crossed his face for a fraction of a second before the force of the blast launched him into the air. He arced straight over the Hufflepuff tables and slammed into Slytherin, producing a noise that didn't sound at all healthy. The place that had formerly housed a headmaster was now filled by a-

"A narwhal!?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "What the hell?"

All around the hall - all around the school, in fact - similar explosions of narwhal were taking place. Dozens of the creatures appeared all over the castle, knocking over suits of armor, startling ghosts and soaking paintings

One of the creatures appeared directly in front of Vasia, soaking her to the bone. Tilting its head, it looked at her curiously.

The riding crop came around to wail the beast upside the head.

" _Fracturis ictum_."

The top half of the unfortunate creature vanished as it suddenly became a spray of meat and bone. Gore splattered the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables, soaking the students there in sticky bits of former narwhal. Dumbledore, who had just climbed to his feet, suffered the worst of it. His front was completely coat, large chunks of red matter and flecks of bone sliding down his robes.

"It appears you have an infestation to deal with here," Vasia stated smugly. "Unless, of course, your pathetic brain has rotted so badly that you intend to ignore this in favor of trying to deny my lord his rights?"

Dumbledore stared at her mutely, scraping the ruined meat off his face.

"As I though."

Vasia slogged through the mess covering the floor and approached Harry.

"Now, my lord, if you would do me the honor of accompanying me? I believe a late lunch is in order, and this setting is certainly not appropriate for someone of your station."

* * *

A/N:

Updates for this might be slowing down.

I had a specific reason for writing this story, and that reason is no longer a reason.

I wouldn't consider this dead, or even in a coma really. It's just kind of taking a nap. I'll still be working on it here and there, but I won't be aiming for putting out a chapter every 1 - 2 weeks. I still enjoy working on it to a degree, I've just lost a lot of my drive.

I have a couple of other ideas I'm working on, so I might spend a bit more time on those. Or I might just cut back on how much time I spend writing in general. I'm not really sure yet.

There's some more random crap to add to the Glossary Of All Things and Stuff (GOATS), but I'll do it next chapter, whenever that is.


	22. Maid A Made

Something Familiar

Chapter 22: "Maid A Made"

AKA: "It's All Relative"

* * *

Harry's friends watched him leave the Great Hall with a combination of curiousity, confusion, trepidation and underwear that had suddenly grown much tighter. In fact, the entire collection of students was doing much the same, though some of their underwear was more wet than tight. Some of them didn't even _have_ underwear, but the thought was there.

Suddenly Hermione said, "Okay, what the vasco was that!?"

"Normally I would disapprove of such strong language when a simple 'fuck' would suffice, but I do believe it is merited in this situation."

"Harry has relatives?" Fred asked, looking to George for confirmation.

The other Weasley shook his head. "No way. He was raised by muggle relatives, right? If he had magical relatives, there's no way in vasco that'd happen."

"That, on the other hand, was not merited," King muttered disapprovingly.

"It's some kind of prank, right?" Hermione asked. "It has to be, but… Professor McGonagall said it was true.

George scratched his chin in thought. "There's no way she'd help, especially not with something like this. Bloodlines are serious business. Like, _serious_ serious business."

"She's definitely getting a kick out of it, though," Fred chuckled. "Whatever's going on, I'm thinking the joke's on Dumbledore. I mean, damn… look at his face."

King frowned. "I have, on occasion, had the distinct impression that our head of house is not particularly fond of the headmaster. She is the consummate professional, but I have always sensed a degree of coldness in their relations."

"Yeah, I-"

Fred's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, crap! Cold! Tuck your feet up!" he ordered.

It may have been a testament of their trust, or perhaps an ingrained reaction resulting from their constant exposure to the weirdness that was the wizarding world, but the other students reflexively obeyed. They mimicked Fred as one. They were just in time, yanking their feet out of the water even as a series of surprised cries erupted from the Slytherin table.

Snow, who had oddly (and suspiciously) enough been sitting _on_ the table despite her master's repeated protests, had suddenly flung herself into the air. A blue kimono was cast aside, revealing a brief glimpse of her pale form before she plunged into the water.

Every bit of floor in the castle was suddenly buried under slabs of ice that were nearly two feet thick.

"Whew. That was a close one," Fred declared as he stretched his legs back out. The small glacier that had suddenly filled the castle came nearly to the seat of his chair, ending just millimeters from his bottom.

Hermione scowled at him and slid her legs out across the ice sheet. "A little more warning would be nice," she complained as she carefully arranged her robes.

"Yeah. You know what else'd be nice? If that freaking thing hadn't woken me up at whatever time it woke me up!" Fred snapped, pointing at his brother's head.

George frowned as he straightened his hat again. The stuffed animal's massive maw was held split open, engulfing half his head. The seemingly endless amount of drool it produced provided enough lubrication to make balancing it difficult. Luckily, the slathering tongue that constantly swept across his head caught most of it before it hit his robes.

"What? You don't like koalas?" she said innocently. "I thought everyone liked koalas."

"No, I like koalas. I _don't_ like demon koalas from hell. And I got hit by King's cow when he backhanded it into oblivion. It was like getting hit with… I dunno… an apple jam cannonball, I guess."

"At least it wasn't apricot," Hermione said with a shrug.

Fred nodded. "True. That' would have _sucked._ "

"Well _I_ like koalas. Why'd I get a duck?" George demanded. "Who the hell wants to wear a duck on their head?"

"That's… really not what they're for, George. And you stole Fred's koala, so there's no cause to be whining."

"And your feet aren't buried in ice, are they? So you don't get to whine either," Fred declared.

George swept his gaze across the hall. Nearly every student and even some of the staff were embedded to the knees in solid ice. Some were trying, without success, to melt it with Warming Charms. Others were simply freaking out, tugging at their limbs in a frenzied panic that was a lot more likely to cause them harm than anything else. A few had barely even acknowledged the fact that the Great Hall was now a frozen tundra. They simply continued to eat, not deigning to notice they were embedded in ice.

"Yeah, about that…"

Fred grinned. "Give it a minute. I'm not done."

"So how'd you get the ice girl to help, anyway? The only time I even see her is when she's following Harry around like a lost puppy. Even then, she just takes off if one of us tries to talk to her."

"I told her I'd get him to torch her later. She was _real_ helpful after that."

King cleared his throat. "The impropriety of selling Harry's… services aside, you do realize, of course, that you will be sharing credit for this with him."

"What? No way! This was all me!"

"The rules we have established are quite clear. Complicit or not, Harry was a vital element needed to complete your plan."

"Damn it. Well, he better not get any credit for _this_ ," Fred muttered.

As if summoned by his words, the Winged Apocalypse 2: Winged Apocalypseier descended on the hall. Owls, quite possibly more than the room had ever seen at once, flooded the airspace above the diners' tables. There were so many that they were actually _fighting_ to get through the newly-enlarged windows. The ruckus was loud and violent enough that even the panicking students froze and stared up in shock.

There was a familiar buzzing sound as Headwig shot out of the avian melee. The diminutive owl came to a screeching halt in front of Hermione, hovering above the table clutching a wooden box easily five times her size in her talons.

"Oh, baby, did you bring something for me? You're such a good girl!"

Headwig dropped the box onto the table and shot into Hermione's waiting hands. The tiny ball of metal and feathers hit with enough force to make Hermione produce and audible 'oof' sound. Recovering, she gently placed her familiar on the table and removed a handkerchief from her robes. It was carefully applied to the bird's armor, wiping away the blood as she regarded the box with a high degree of suspicion.

 _Are you tired slipping and falling like a fool?_

 _Are you sick of cold toes and fingers?_

 _Is the fact that your legs are trapped in a frozen prison of hellish death-ice worrying you?_

 _The ARCTIC EMERGENCY CONTINGENCY KIT is just what you need!_

 _Contains:_

 _1 flask of Liquid Heat: perfect for freeing those legs._

 _2 anti-slip shoe upgrade:, keep your feet on the ice, not your face._

 _1 loo loosener: you don't want it freezing (and it will) when it hits the ice._

 _1 heated bag bag: keeps you warm where it counts._

 _2 adhesive nipple covers: because pointing is rude._

 _3 flasks of charmed hot chocolate. Suck it!_

 _1 flask of charmed hot chocolate that definitely doesn't have a shot of Firewhiskey in it._

 _All for the amazing price of 15 knuts!_

 _This is a limited time offer, so keep your knuts or keep your nuts!_

 _Get it while it's hot!_

 _And before you suffer frostbite._

"You imprisoned 98% of the student body in ice, and you're extorting them with the promise of freedom?" Hermione asked incredulously. She prodded her familiar, prompting the bird to lift its wings. Frowning, she started carefully picking bits of owl out of her armor's joints.

Fred gave a happy nod as he looked around the hall. Dozens of students were already loading coins into the leather pouches tied to the owl's legs. "Sure did. Think you can top that?"

"A minor terrorist action? Holding several hundred students hostage?" Hermione scoffed. "Please, give me a little credit. You can set the bar, but you can't keep me from _jumping_ over it."

Fred and George stared at her for several seconds.

"Uh, should that worry us, brother?"

"I'm honestly not sure."

"You guys are starting to sound like Nev," Hermione sighed. She paused a moment with a thoughtful look on her face, then continued, "Hey, has anyone actually seen Neville today? He wasn't in our morning classes. I figured he was just getting something ready, but now he's missing lunch…"

"And it's Mystery Meat day," Fred added.

Hermione nodded, looked down at the slab of meat on her plate. It was an irregular lump of slate blue flesh, mottled with green and neon orange flecks. Viscous fluids dribbled from it, and every time someone bumped the table it wobbled like gelatin. It met her gaze, staring up at her balefully with its one large eye.

The witch casually slipped her fork under the glaring organ and popped it out in a deft motion. The ocular apparatus sailed into the air, where Headwig carefully caught it. Carefully not piercing the ball, she held it aloft for her which to examine.

"He'll be so disappointed. He loves it when there's eyes in it," she said sadly. "At least they keep well. That's a good one, sweetie."

Headwig whipped around and gently set it upon an unsteady pyramid of eyes. It joined the others in glaring at her, giving her an accusing stare as she ate her lunch.

George made a humming noise as he thought, amusing himself by poking his lunch. Its eyes followed his finger, crossing and uncrossing. Well, something like that, anyway. I'm pretty sure 'crossing' isn't the right word when there's five eyes, but whatever.

"So, should _this_ worry us?"

"Really, George?" Fred chuckled. "It's Lord Nev. What's the worst that could happen?"

George's eyes widened in horror. In a hoarse whisper he asked, "Dear god, what have you done…?"

Fred's expression quickly changed, giving them a matched set. "Oh, shit…"

"Uh, what's up? Why are you guys all freaked out all of a sudden? Did Fred's Mystery Meat start talking again or something?" Hermione asked. "I told you not to grab the ones with mouths anymore…"

"No, it's… Mio, do you know what words of power are?" George asked weakly.

"I've seen some passing references to them, but nothing substantial."

Sighing, Fred slumped across the table with a defeated look on his face. "You can use a really, really powerful ritual to turn some words into a spell, assuming you know how. There's no wand motion and the words aren't an incantation, they _are the spell_. Anyone that says them invokes it."

"It's why everyone was so afraid to say Moldydickwart's name. Rumors were he turned it into a word of power," George added.

"And this is relevant… how?"

Fred shrugged. "No one's really sure how it happened, but the legend is that some wizard got talked into downing some serious shit. We're talking something that makes Kitten's funtime moss seem like a cheap beer. You probably don't know anything about that kinda thing, being muggleborn and all, but the seriously nasty enchanted drugs can mess you up for weeks. Sometimes months, even."

"Remember: just say no. Then verify the pusher until they stop screaming," George instructed. "So he finally comes out of it and finds out he's not a he. Someone fed him a Gender Swap Potion and sold him off. Now he's- she's in a binding marriage contract with a Spanish conquistador."

"Wait, what? You're saying this happened in the 16th century?"

George frowned. "Uh, yeah. Sure. That sounds about right, or something."

"Our new witch ain't real happy about bein' treated like a baby factory, so she's not real upset when the whole lot of the dudes get slaughtered by the tribal types. Her husband's dead and she's free. The locals pretty much decided she was divinity or something. They already thought the explorer types were gods, but she could actually produce _miracles_. All they used was ritual magic, so seeing someone wave a stick and make shit happen was pretty impressive."

"And then she preformed the ritual and cursed that phrase. Now saying 'that could happen' after 'what's the worst' invokes the curse and ensures that things are pretty much guaranteed to get worse. The end."

"So… what? The words are some kind of revenge? Like for the gender change, or getting sold?"

"Nah. Like I said, she was treated like a god. Goddess. Gender gets annoying when stuff like that is involved…" Fred complained. "Anyway, Michael Murphy had a shit life. All the stories agree on that. Having his outie turned into an innie and getting shanghaied was probably the best thing that ever happened to him-her."

Hermione frowned at him. "If she was _happy_ about it, why'd she curse the words?"

"How the hell should I know. Do I look like a South American Goddess?"

"Yeah, it's hard telling. By all accounts Maya Murphy was a pretty weird one."

Hermione sat there with a strange expression, her face slowly turning from confusion to shock. "Wait. 16th century? Tribal type? _Maya_ Murphy? You can't seriously be talking about the-"

"Mayans. Yeah, they named their civilization after her," Fred said with a shrug.

"That's impossible! Mayan history goes back thousands of years!" Hermione protested.

King sighed. "An herein lies that bitter, cutting edge of discovering a new world: learning how much of your old world was a lie. It makes me wonder… if I discovered yet another world, would this one, too, be a lie?"

"What Mr. Emo Poet is trying to say is that the ruins and shit have only existed for about a 150 years. The modern Mayans built them to be tourist attractions, then jacked up history so they'd always been there."

"Muggles've got the Seven Wonders of the World, right? Well, we magic types've got something like that too," George declared. "The Retroactive Ruins of South America are one of them."

"People usually just call it the Mayan Mindfuck, though," Fred said softly. "And do you know why? You know why they call it that? Because those ruins haven't even been _built_ yet. They've been around for 1000 years, but they've only existed since the spell was cast 150 years ago, but the spell was cast on buildings that won't be built for 200 years."

"I think I might be starting to hate this world…" Hermione sighed. "Is there a spell that can verify all the things? Because if there isn't, I just might make one and- Wait, did I just say 'all the things' right there?"

Fred, George and King all nodded.

"I think I really need to spend less time around the cat… A cat I have conversations with, allow to trim my hair with her stone-cleaving fingernails and occasionally force-bathes me," Hermione groaned. "Sometimes the weirdness really starts getting to me. Some days I feel like I'm about _this_ close to snapping."

The twins exchanged a glance.

"You probably shouldn't turn around then," George suggested.

Hermione glared at him suspiciously. "What? Why?" she demanded.

"I believe Red is referring to the Narwhal that just skated by behind you," King replied helpfully.

" _King_! What the hell, man!?"

The boy frowned as he shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position for his legs on the ice. "It hardly seems worth concealing. Others are beginning to break free," he said defensively. A tremendous crash rocked the hall as he brought his closed fist down on the ice _hard_. The frozen liquid succumbed instantly. There was an explosion of fine, icy particles as the glacier was practically vaporized for a good distance in every direction. Smiling, he happily sighed, "Ah, much better," and set his feet on the floor.

"Bet they wished they sat closer now," Fred snorted, stretching his legs out. "Shoulda just told you to do that in the first place."

Hermione shook the tiny ice crystals from her robes and gave Headwig a few gentle wipes with her bloody handkerchief. "King's right, you know. Two went by behind you while you were talking about the Mayan thing. I decided to ignore them. It seems fairly reasonable, considering they live in the Arctic. Of course they can move on ice."

"Huh? Oh, these aren't _those_ narwhals. These ones are from-"

George's elbow slammed into his brother's gut, terminating the sentence prematurely. "So, how about that local-area sports team?" he asked casually. "They sure do sports, huh?"

"They're from where? Does it explain the ice skates? Because, now that I think about it, narwhals having ice skates doesn't make a lot of sense. I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring that until just now, but..." Hermione groaned. "I didn't even know they _made_ ice skates for flippers…"

The twins watched as another narwhal glided by behind Hermione, its bulk supported by a trio of metal blades.

"Uh, it doesn't, actually."

"To be honest, we were kind of wondering about that, too…"

King watched a passing monodontidae critically. "Perhaps it is the result of a divergent evolutionary path of some sort?" he suggested. "I must say, they are surprisingly light on their flippers."

"What kind of thing evolves _skates_ , King?"

"Narwhals, apparently," he replied reasonably. "That one cuts quite a lovely figure eight, doesn't he?"

George nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, pretty impressive he can do that with his sack draggin' on the ice. You think he'd be interested in a heated bag bag?" Fred said hopefully.

"Narwhals don't have money, Fred. Where're they from?" Hermione demanded.

"Damn. We were hoping you forgot."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not Harry, guys. Just throwing a handful of pretty rocks on the ground wouldn't distract me long enough for you to get away."

"Hey, in his defense, they were _really_ pretty rocks."

"Yeah. We must've spent half the day tracking down every bit of jade around the lake."

Hermione twitched.

"Not helping, Fred," George hissed. "Seriously, just shut it. But I am surprised to find out Saharan Narwhals skate so well. Does anyone know what's for dinner? It's hard to top mystery meat!"

The pewter goblet in Hermione's hand groaned as it was slowly forced out of shape. "Saharan Narwhals? As in, narwhals from the Sahara?"

Nod.

"There's no large bodies of water in the Sahara, guys. There's barely any _small_ bodies of water there. Why would there be a bunch of narwhals in a place with on water for narwhals to be in?"

The twins both suddenly whipped a hand out of their robes. There was a pained groan as Fred looked down at his paper, which had been thoroughly cut by George's scissors.

"Told ya," George said smugly. "Sucker."

"Screw you. It's not a big deal, Mio. Sometimes a big storm picks them up out of the ocean and tosses them in the air. There's some kind of weird wind thing up there that funnels them to the desert. Then they just kind of… come down. It's not a big deal. It's like a perfectly normal rain of cats and dogs, but with narwhals instead of cats and dogs. Narwhals that don't splat like they should, for no reason anyone's ever been able to figure out. It's not a big deal."

" _You. Said. That._ "

Fred giggled nervously. "Did I? I did, didn't I?"

"How the hell does a _narwhal_ of all things survive in the _Sahara_?" Hermione demanded.

"There's a kind of landshark in the Sahara called a sandshark. Nasty pieces of work. I guess they tried to eat the narwhals and lost. So, when the narwhals ate their mutilated corpses, they mutated," George picked up the explanation. "Now they swim through the desert just like the sharks did. Whenever new narwhals fall the old ones round up a bunch of sandsharks, ritualistically slaughter them and offer their still-warm flesh to their brothers."

"I guess the lesson here is that you don't start shit with something that has a goddamned spear growing from its face," Fred added.

"..."

"They're a real problem when the population gets too high, because they start raiding villages and stuff. Nasty business. But, unfortunately, you can't just blast 'em 'cuz they're a protected species. So the wizards there just them and either store them or sell them off," Fred finished, holding up a small pill. It was a capsule with a soft plastic shell, similar to the ones those small, foam dinosaurs come in. "Our older brother works in Egypt a lot. He was happy to send me a couple dozen capsules.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "You let a bunch of _flesh-eating_ narwhals loose in the castle?"

"It's perfectly okay," Fred declared with a shrug. "They only really go after sandsharks and easy prey, like small children."

A second-year Ravenclaw went by screaming bloody murder, her robes in tatters. A moment later a narwhal slid by behind her. It had ragged strips of cloth hanging from its mouth.

Hermione stared at him.

"Oh, right," Fred gasped in realization, smacking his fist into his palm. "Small children! There's a bunch of those around here, isn't there? I _knew_ I was forgetting something."

"Idiot," George sighed. "It should be fine, Mio. They're used to being able to pop up under their food and stab it. They can't do that in this ice (I think), so they'll (probably) have a hard time stabbing anything (that isn't too slow)."

King observed the panicking students, mostly second-years and below, fleeing the ice-skating Saharan Narwhals throughout the hall. "I believe this is beneficial, if anything. It provides a great deal of incentive to purchase a pair of anti-ice shoe upgrades," he remarked.

Hermione stared at him, aghast, " _King_! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"I was merely stating the obvious. Besides, even the younger students should have little trouble dealing with the beasts once they calm down. It would take little more than a Levitation Charm or a simple Shoving Spell should suffice."

":I dunno about that, your majesty," George said hesitantly. "They're even better at dodging spells than the E- the flightless birds were."

Even as he spoke, a speeding narwhale dodged a Blasting Spell - courtesy of Snape - by launching itself into the air. Once airborne, the beast twisted itself into an absolutely beautiful triple axel. It terminated the jump by bringing its large tail around and slamming it into the side of the professor's skull with bone-rattling force. The noise it made was cringeworthy, but the sound of Snape slamming face-first into the far wall was even worse.

9.8 - 10.0 - 7.2 - 9.9

Fred gazed down at his raised hands in confusion, then looked around at his friends. His eyes lingered, in particular, on the signs they each held. "Uh, why are we holding up these signs?"

"Screw that. Where did we even _get_ these signs?" Hermione demanded. "I'm pretty sure I didn't have a sign."

"I'm more curious about the 7.2, Fred. 7.2? Really? How did that deserve a 7.2?" George demanded.

Fred sniffed, "He was a little unsteady on the landing and his tail hit the greaspit's face a tad off center."

"Seriously guys, where the hell did these signs come from?"

* * *

"I thought we were going to Hogsmeade," Harry said. He nervously stared as they passed another large web. This one had something that looked suspiciously like a moose stuck in it, dead and dessicated. "I've never been there, but I'm pretty sure it isn't in the Forbidden Forest."

Vasia smiled as she stepped over a thick strand of webbing and replied, "We're not going to Hogsmeade, my lord. It is very likely that pompous prick- forgive me, that scheming old man would hear everything that is said there." Her tone was quite different than either she had used with Dumbledore. It lacked both the clearly fake sincerity and nearly tangible malice. While calling it friendly might not quite be right, it was certainly pleasant.

"Uh, okay…" Harry muttered, his eyes scanning the dark woodscape.

It was easy to see how the Forbidden Forest had gotten its name. It was certainly a forest, loosely populated by trees that only got thicker and wider as you went further in. The thick canopy overhead obscured the afternoon sun, blanketing the area in shadow.

The webs, obviously, were his primary concern at this point. They were clearly spider webs, though the spiders that made them had obviously gone to a different school than the ones he was familiar with. These were the cigarette-smoking, wifebeater-wearing thugs of the spider world.

"Don't worry, my lord. You're quite safe. The acromantula wouldn't dare approach us," Vasia announced, brushing a finger against her ear. She paused briefly, raising her hand to show him the ruby red spider now perched on her knuckle. "Callidora keeps them at bay."

Giving the tiny spider - small enough that it could have sat on his fingernail - a skeptical look, Harry said, "Uh, okay…"

"It's a bit odd, though. Usually there's at least a few lurking around," Vasia stated, frowning. "Their queen likes them to be seen. It's a petty show of her meager power. I would have expected to stumble across-"

Something large and hairy hit the narrow trail ahead of them with a wet splat. Sticky, smelly ichor splattered the pair. Despite the thick blobs of fluid that splattered her face, Vasia - once again - didn't so much as blink. Harry, on the other hand, was quite interested to learn that the substance tasted much like melting shoe rubber smelled.

"-some by now," Vasia finished

"Oh~, you should have said that sooner!"

Harry quickly turned his gaze upward and noted, without the slightest bit of surprise, that his familiar was crouched on a branch high up in a particularly large tree.

Harry spit out a mouthful of spider juice. "Angel. Why?" he asked simply.

The familiar landed lightly beside him. He was a bit disturbed to note that a thorned choker around her neck was working its way up through her hair, devouring spider juice and tiny hunks of meat.

"I caught it! It's for you!" she declared happily. She proceeded to tilt her head to one side - much like Orchid - and pout. "But I wish I knew they weren't doing the bad things. I would have left all the other ones alone."

"Other ones? What other ones?" Harry demanded.

Angel clasped her hands behind her back, leaned forward and gave him what could only be described as a 'so cute I can get away with anything' look. "We~ll, I was playing in the woods with Flower and Nev-Nev. Then I smelled My Boy, so I came to see him. But there was a bunch of big spiders following behind. They looked like they were doing bad things. I like nice spiders, but bad spiders are only good for the playing," she explained. Her eyes lingered on Vasia's raised hand for a moment. "So we played. But the big spiders stopped playing just as fast as the little ones."

Harry sighed. "How many did you 'play' with?"

Angel thought, then raised a hand and held up three fingers.

"Well, that's not so bad."

"Uh-huh. I got bored, and they started to try an' run way after the first dozens," Angel declared. "They weren't fun enough to try catching more than a few more!"

"Oh."

Vasia stared at the cat in shock. "You killed three dozen acromantula that were following us, and didn't even make enough noise to draw attention to yourself?" she asked.

Angel landed on the huge spider's corpse with a wet, meaty splat. "There nothin' but trees in the Other Place. I'm _real_ good at trees," she replied, giving the witch a toothy grin. "I'm _real_ good at quiet, too…"

"I see."

Turning, Angel fixed her gaze on Harry. He wilted under her disapproving glare. "My Boys shouldn't wander off with strange people. Not without telling the kitty first. People could get hurt if that happens. Sometime they even go 'poof' and're gone."

"It's okay, Angel. Blaise said it was safe, remember?"

"Trusting peoples is good, but having too much of the trust is bad," Angel scolded. "Not everything that seems nice is good. The Flower looks _real_ nice, but she wasn't before she was Nev-Nev's. I don't like it when people do something stupid that gets them disappeared, so you should try not to do silly things."

Vasia slowly nodded in agreement. "Your familiar is correct, my lord. You should not do things that might result in someone vanishing," she said cautiously. "Though that is certainly not the case here, following someone you do not know into a place like the Forbidden Forest is not wise."

"Sorry, I'll be more… uh… careful."

Harry trailed off in confusion as his familiar stalked up to Vasia. The witch, for her part, stood there calmly, looking quite unperturbed. She didn't so much as react as the familiar leaned in and stared at her from a distance that was _much_ closer than could be considered polite. Breathing deeply, she began stalking around the witch. She came to a stop and dropped down into a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet as she examined Vasia's crop.

"What _are_ you doing out here?" she asked. There was nothing but mild curiosity in her tone, but something about it suggested there was _definitely_ a wrong answer.

Vasia couldn't help but notice that it'd be nearly impossible to bring her wand around at this distance, and that was assuming she had the chance to draw it in the first place. "We were on our way to a safe place to discuss things. The most direct and convenient route is through the Forbidden Forest."

Angel examined her for another moment, taking a slow breath through her nose. Suddenly she bounced back up and stepped back, smiling happily. "Oh. That's okay then. But just this time. Don't go wandering off with weird people again."

"But you were… I thought it was okay. Sorry," he muttered. He was trying very hard to ignore the way her mesh crop top was giving him a disapproving glare. It wasn't easy to accept the fact that someone's clothing might be silently judging you.

"I'm glad to have that sorted out with a minimum of fuss. Come along, then. Though I doubt the acromantula want to be anywhere near us now, this is still the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had only been here a few years when I graduated, but he'd still managed to turn it into quite the impressive game reserve. I can only imagine what else may be here now."

They move through the trees for a few moments more, eventually arriving at a small clearing.

"We've arrived, my lord."  
Harry look around curiously. "Uh, this doesn't really look like a good place for lunch…"

Vasia smiled at him and replied, "Hogwarts has some of the oldest and most powerful wards in the world. Apparation and Portkeys both fail to function on the grounds, unless very special measures are taken. Are you familiar with those?"

Harry shook his head.

"Both are forms of that muggles would think of as teleportation. Portkeys are something like the transporters in Star Trek, requiring a special object to get to your destination. Apparation is more along the lines of what Nightcrawler does in the more recent X-Men movies," she stated. At his shocked look she smiled again and explained. "I was born a half-blood, my lord. I'm still quite fond of muggle entertainment. I find it far better than anything in the magical world."

Her statement was met with a nod. In two months Harry'd seen nothing in the way of entertainment that could match a muggle TV show. Magic was really cool and all, but sometimes you just wanted to sit down and watch a slasher flick. Not that he'd had many chances to do that…

"While Hogwarts' wards are powerful, they've been badly maintained for over a century. They're full of more holes than a slice of swiss cheese," Vasia sighed sadly. She held up a small, silver key for him to examine. "This is a Keystone Key. It is similar to a Portkey, though more limited in utility. It requires two specially prepared stones to work, and can only move someone between them."

She reached out and tapped the large tree she stood next to, drawing his attention to a small stone embedded in the trunk. It was slightly smaller than a muggle dvd. Curiously, there was a keyhole in the exact center of it.

"Linked objects like this are unimpeded by the wards, as they create a tunnel between two points rather than transport something across the ward lines. A sad and pathetic state for Hogwarts to be in, but useful," she declared. Turning, she inserted the key and turned it with a click. The stone suddenly exploded outward, widening and growing taller in a way that should have destroyed the tree it was in. Seams rapidly formed, becoming the edges of a wide pair of ornate double doors. Harry watched in fascination as they swung open, revealing something that clearly wasn't the inside of a tree.

"If you would be kind enough to accompany me?" Vasia prompted, striding through the portal.

Following her, Harry was mildly surprised to find himself in the middle of a broad room. The walls, floor and ceiling were all the same dull, gray stone. Large torches hung from iron hooks in the ceiling, filling the room with bright, flickering light. Around the perimeter wall there were four more doors, each just like the one he'd come through.

Following his gaze, Vasia explained, "I find it useful to travel quickly without using the Floo at times. Keeping one's options open is always wise, and Keystone Keys are both hard to block and hard to detect. Unfortunately, both ends of the gate are immovable once set. Good afternoon, Sara."

Harry started, just now noticing the girl standing in the center of the room. In retrospect, it was a testament to how distracted he was that he'd managed to miss her. It wasn't every day you saw someone in a gothic maid's outfit made of deep, black fabric and dark green lace.

"Good afternoon miss. Am I correct in assuming it is our new lord accompanying you?"

"It is. Harry, this is Sara, my-"

"-head maid," the young woman cut Vasia off, provoking a slight twitch. The maid turned toward Harry and dropped into a low curtsey. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I'm Sara. Should you need anything at all, simply speak to me or one of my girls and we'll see to it immediately. We've been told your orders supersede all others."

"...sure," Harry replied hesitantly. He couldn't help but feel a little weird in this situation. Lord knew he wasn't used to people acting like they were his servants. Usually it was the other way around, really. Shrugging it off, he sighed, "Angel. Don't."

"What? I wasn't doing anything!" an innocent voice said from immediately behind Sara. The sudden declaration caused the witch to make a frightened noise and dart away. She whirled and gave the redheaded familiar a startled look.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on people, smell them or lick them?" Harry demanded.

"I wasn't!"

"You were! You had your tongue out and everything!"

"My Bo~y~, she smells good!" Angel protested. "Not bad-good, good-good! Like nibble-plants and noms!"

Harry frowned. "Bad-good?"

"Nasty things that taste yummy," Angel explained. "But she doesn't make me hungry, she just makes me want the eats." She took another step forward, forcing Sara to step back. At this point, the familiar was literally breathing down her neck.

"Angel, don't eat maids. No eating maids for you, got it?" Harry sighed.

"I don't want the maids!" Angel huffed. She was staring fixedly at Sara's chest. "I want the things!"

Sara gave her a confused look, then her eyes widened in realization. Stepping back, she reached into her uniform and withdrew a small pouch from within the ruffles. Raising her hand, she displayed it to the familiar. "Is this what you want?"

The small bag was immediately the subject of every ounce of focus the cat could muster. Carefully keeping her eyes fixed on it, she slowly nodded.

Sara held the bag out to one side, drawing the familiar's attention away from her. She raised her other hand to her ear and brushed a finger against the small, silver earring hanging there. "Candice, could you come down to the key room? It's rather urgent."

There was a brief pause as tilted her head to one side, as if listening to something.

"Am I… missing something?" Harry asked.

Sara smiled and swung the bag back and forth, watching as Angel's head moved in time. "Lisa and Lara's familiars are siamese cats. They work quite hard running snacks, drinks and potions to us while we work. Because of that, all the girls carry treats and some catnip with them."

The only actual door in the room swung open, admitting another witch. She wore a uniform very similar to Sara's, though less ornate.

"What's up, Sara? Why did- Oh! Is that our new lord?" she inquired excitedly. "He's so cute. Can I give him a hug? He looks like he needs a hug."

Sara sighed. "Forgive me, my Lord. Candice is quite new and, as such, lacks the decorum that is expected from a proper servant," she apologized. Holding her hand out, she turned to Angel. "Do you see this?"

Angel nodded, completely focused on the bag.

"Do you want it?"

Angel nodded again, wiggling slightly and shifting her balance as she stared at it.

"Sara, what're you-" the new arrival began.

Her response was a bag upside the head, accompanied by a belated order of, "Catch." She reflexively did just that, staring at it in confusion.

"Uh, what am I supposed to-"

"You can have it. It's yours," Sara told Angel. "She has one too. You can have it. You should get them quick, though. She likes to run away and hide them."

Candice's eyes widened in horror as the full implications of what had just happened hit her. Unfortunately, it wasn't until just after the implications hit her that she realized the 'implications' were a rather fast and powerful ballistic redhead. She didn't stand a chance, not even managing to let loose a startled shriek before she was slammed into the floor.

Harry watched as the pair became a rolling pile of flailing limbs. It was a pretty familiar sight, though it was a bit odd to see Angel on the wrong end. A steady stream of torn fabric scraps and _very_ unladylike swearing came from the small skirmish.

"Is that alright?"

Sara shrugged. "As I said, Candice is new. She needs to learn the composure and adaptability a good maid requires. She also needs to learn not to eat the head maid's last pudding. I believe this will go a long way toward teaching both of those lessons."

A redhead launched past her, gouging deep gashes in the floor as she struggled to make a sharp turn. Scrambling, she circled Sara at high speed and shot through the door with the ruined remains of a maid's uniform hanging from her mouth. The outfit's former owner shot past a moment later.

"Get back here with my clothes! My wand's in there!" Candice screamed as she took off down the hall after the clothing thief.

" _Mr~ow_!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Okay, so that's a thing that just happened," Harry sighed. "I feel like Fred would make a comment about knowing she doesn't bleach her hair."  
"She does, actually. She's just very through," Sara replied absently as she brushed a finger against her earring again. "Girls, there's a rampaging familiar in a catnip-induced frenzy loose in the estate. Please stay out of her way and try to direct her away from anything too valuable. Oh, and if you have any treats on you, feel free to throw them at Candice. I suggest adding sticking spells."

Harry stared at her, then turned and asked Vasia, "Are all maids this scary?"

"Sara is _not_ a maid," she sighed.

"I am too," the alleged maid disagreed. She grabbed two fistfuls of lace and held her dress out for them to examine. "I have the clothes and everything."  
"She _does_ have the clothes. She looks like a maid to me," Harry confirmed.

"Looking like something doesn't make you it. I'd think you would know that, my Lord," Vasia muttered. "A few years ago one of my _employees_ decided dressing and acting like a maid would be amusing. I assumed it was just a passing game, so I ignored it. Unfortunately, not only has she not tired of it, but I am beginning to have the sneaking suspicion I should not have left her in charge of hiring our _employees_. I find it a bit odd that everyone whose services she's acquired has had a similarly warped personality."

"The world is full of mysteries," Sara observed, her eyes appropriately filled with wonder.

"So… she dresses like a maid, says she's a maid and you let her act like a maid, but she's not a maid?" Harry asked in confusion. "Why isn't she a maid?"

Vasia replied, "Because people don't have maids anymore. Not in the sense she means, at least."

"Why not?"

To be honest, the whole situation was throwing Harry off. It was a bit jarring to have someone respectfully calling you "my Lord" when you were used to being treated worse than scum. The disagreement as to whether or not the maid was a maid was just making it worse. He didn't understand why someone would _want_ to be a servant, but it seemed to make her happy enough.

"Human servants went out of style centuries ago, when wizards first started binding house elves to their service. Are you familiar with house elves?"

Harry nodded. "The twins showed me the kitchens. The elves helped me jelly the Headmaster."

"They must like you," Vasia observed. "Once bound they are forever loyal, but those bound to an institution have a bit more leeway as to whose benefit they are working for. Ones bound to a house, however, are completely loyal to the bloodline. They are far less likely to betray their masters than even a bound servant, so anyone with the skill and power to do so bound them. Having human servants quickly became known as an indicator that your line was lacking in one of those things."

"So they'd think you're weak because you hired people?" Harry asked with a puzzled frown.

Vasia shook her head. "Oh, no. It's been so long since anyone's used a bound servant that I doubt they'd know what to make of it at all. They'd certainly look at you as if you were a little strange, that's for certain."

Harry pondered for several seconds. "I've been feeding dead mail owls to my cat-hybrid humanlike familiar to hide the fact that my friend's owl-hummingbird-deathmachine-thing has been brutally murdering them in fits of jealous rage," he announced. "Is it stranger than that?"

There as a long, silent pause.

"Damn. He wins," Sara declared.

Clearing her throat, Vasia cleared her throat and continued, "Yes, well, the strangeness aside, there are simple, logistical concerns to consider. While I can keep my assistants somewhat secure and protected, I cannot do so to the degree necessary to uphold my end of the contract. It might have been a possibility if I hadn't been cast out of the Zabini, but I no longer wield the power of that name. I'm afraid that is simply how the coin falls."

Vasia could swear she saw the gears in Harry's head turning. Prompted by the sudden metallic grinding, hers began to work as well. With two decades of through oiling and careful refinement over his, they turned quite a bit faster than the young wizard's. Despite that, he'd had a considerable head start. Even as her mouth began to open, his were already forming words.

"Do you want to be my head maid?" He asked.

"Don't!" Vasia snapped just a little too late. "Damn it."

Sara gave him a bright smile and replied, "Yes!"

"No!"

"What? I want to hire her."

Vasia glared at him. "We're not hiring her!"

"She's right, you know. You don't _hire_ a servant. You _bind_ servants," Sara said helpfully.

"He's not binding anyone!"

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sara chimed in.

"Because he has no idea idea what it means! A child should not be making decisions like that?"

"Like adopting a total stranger?" Sara asked innocently.

Nodding, Harry agreed. "She's right. That _was_ pretty irresponsible of me."

"It was," Sara agreed with his agreal. Pure wholesomeness and more innocence radiated from her as she observed, "She hasn't complained about that, has she?"

"That was different!"

"Of course it was."

"Of _course_ it was."

"That is _exactly_ why you need someone actually looking after you! So you don't do incredibly irresponsible things!"

Harry frowned. "So signing those papers was irresponsible?"

"Of _course_ it was!" Sara and Vasia snapped together.

"You had never even met my son before, yet you allowed Blaise to talk you into something like that?" Vasia admonished. "Weren't you raised to have any sense at?"

"Not really."

Sara frowned at him. "What if Blaise was lying?"

"He wasn't," Harry said simply.

Vasia sighed, "You couldn't have known that, Harry. Basing a decision like that on-"

Harry broke in, "I did know."

"...what?"

"I did know. He walked out of that room, so he was telling the truth."

Both witches paused and looked at him in confusion.

"Angel tried to cut someone's eyes out because he called me mean names," Harry replied. "If she thought Blaise was trying to hurt me, she probably would've ripped his skull out and beat him to death with it."

"That doesn't seem physically possible," Sara muttered.

Harry nodded. "That's exactly what he would've said."

"...while being beaten to death with his own skull?"

"Yep."

"Harry, I don't mean to be hurtful, but… I'm not sure you should put so much faith in your familiar's judgement," Vasia said gently. "Blaise's reports indicate a great deal of erratic behavior and questionable choices. She _did_ simply allow you to wander into a very dangerous forest with a total stranger."

"She was watching us the whole time, right up until the spiders distracted her."

"She was watching us?" Vasia parroted, giving him a confused look. "She said-"

"She lied. She was waiting for us up in the trees before we even got there. I'm not stupid, you know. She was right above us the whole time," he told her. "And if you think that's too far, you've never seen her when she wants to be somewhere fast."

"You're saying your familiar trailed us, observed my behavior and then dramatically revealed herself - covered in spider blood and chunks of meat, no less - in a clear display of what she was capable of?"  
Harry nodded.

That sounded extremely methodical, like a clear-cut case of giving someone the rope for their own noose. Then again, cat's weren't exactly known for being stupid hunters, and they did so love to play with their prey. People tended to confuse "thinks different" and "stupid" far too often, but the two aren't always the same. It was an idiotic mistake, because something you don't understand isn't _less_ dangerous, but more. If you couldn't think like your opponent, you couldn't predict their actions. That was worse than being out-gunned by far.

Especially if your mind says, "Two hundred feet away, across clear ground," and theirs says, "Ten feet away, in the trees," while you have the misfortune to be standing in a forest.

The slight grimace was forced from Vasia's face before it even formed. She had no doubt she would have been fine, especially given Callidora's presence, but knowing that something had been lurking above her without her being aware of it was disturbing.

"Though her judgement may be a bit… more reliable than I initially assumed, this is not the thing you should rush into. You may not have had anyone to tell you that before, but you do now."

Harry looked at her with a fairly surprised expression on her face. "Wow. You really _are_ taking this seriously…":

"Of course I am," Vasia said with a mildly offended look. "I'm hardly going to make a game of it considering the price you paid. That bastard will have a hard time touching him with your account in his hands. It is quite valuable to the Zabini, and they'd be loath to risk it.. My son's future is, without a doubt, worth the rest of my life."

Making a pensive face, Sara hummed, "You know, that's a little hypocritical. At least the servant's bond can be severed. We still can't betray our master, but at least we have the option of leaving. I _saw_ that contract. Those were some pretty impressive loyalty clauses. Master'd have a hard time getting rid of you unless he really wanted to, and you can't get rid of him at all."

"Master…?" Harry muttered. "Ah, what does she mean?"

Vasia looked down at him. "The contracts are not just legal papers, but magical as well. The loyalty clauses aren't just for show, they're well and truly binding. They… You _did_ read the contracts, right?" she suddenly asked, giving him a suspicious glare. "The ones Blaise _specifically_ told you to read before signing? The ones that contained the very same information that you quite clearly know nothing about?"

"Oh, _those_ contracts! I thought you meant the _other_ contracts I didn't read!" Harry exclaimed.

"...uh, Master? You just said-"

"I know. I just thought it'd be pretty dumb to deny it, since I'm clearly up vasco creek here."

Calling Vasia's look "unimpressed" would have been the understatement of at least the hour. Probably the week, too. Definitely not the year, though, since Harry or one of his friends was bound to say, "Well, we're totally screwed," at some point or another.

He raised his hands defensively. "Wait, wait a sec! I know what you're gonna say, and just let me explain. I _was_ gonna read them, but I messed up the stack with my stack of homework. I signed them all on accident. There didn't really seem like there was much point in reading them after that, so I just shoved them in the envelop before Angel tried to nightmare a swallow."

"You confused a stack of extremely powerful, magically binding contracts with your schoolwork?" Vasia asked in a clearly unbelieving tone.

"Yep."

"And you signed them on accident?"

"Uh huh."

"All of them?"

"That one too."

The older witch examined him for a long time. "You're not allowed to sign anything anymore," she decided. " _Not. Anything_. Not without me standing _right_ next to you. Understand?"

"But my homew-"

"I'll get you a Dicta-Quill carmed to mimic your signature. You are never to sign your name on any sort of paper with any sort of writing implement held in your hand.. _Is. That. Clear_?"

Somehow the attractive witch managed to seem more intimidating standing there impassively than Vernon's ugly, reddend mask of rage ever managed to be. There was no threat of violence there, just a faintly disappointed look, like she had expected better from him. It was accompanied by a vague sense that he'd regret making her feel something so undesirable, but nothing more.

Of course, the steady, agitated snap of her "wand" striking the side of her boot _did_ make him just a bit nervous, even if the violent action didn't seem to be directed at him.

"Don't worry, Master, she doesn't even realize she's doing that. It's like how some people rub their chin while they think," Sara comforted him. "You should see how nervous it makes people in negotiations."

"Oh. Are you really gonna keep calling me that?"

Sara gave him a curious look. "What else would I call you, Master?"

"Well, my name's Harry…"

"Well, if you want-"

"No," Vasia broke in. "No, that wouldn't be appropriate at all. If you intend to take her on as a servant, it wouldn't do for her to be disrespectful. That _is_ the appropriate form of address, after all. She shall continue to call you that, as will the eleven _maids_ that she directs."

Harry thought briefly, then suddenly whipped a hand up to point at her accusingly. "Ha! I know what you're doing! You're trying to use psychological warfare, but it's not going to work!"

"Actually, Master, that's when you try to win someone over. You're thinking of 'disrupt and demoralize' tactics in a broader sense," Sara corrected him. "It's a common mistake."

"Oh. Well, if you're trying to do… that, it's not gonna work!"

"Yes, I see that. And I was. But if you refuse to be turned from this course of action, very well. It is acceptable, but only in this instance and only because Sara has worked for me for over half a decade," Vasia sighed. "If you're quite sure you're sure, that is."

Harry studied them.

Sara made a startled sound and took a frightened step backwards, putting more distance between them. Caught off guard, Vasia nearly did the same. The boy's green eyes looked them over, but for a brief moment she was absolutely sure the mind behind them wasn't 100% eleven-year-old wizard. It was like there was something else in there, peering out at them.

 _That's impossible. There's no way they've exchanged that much of themselves..._

"I'm sure," Harry said decisively. "I think she's just about the kind of person I like."

"Aw~, Master. That's so-"

"Malicious, violent and vindictive, but in a good way! Just like all my favorite people!"

"..."

Vasia managed to bite back a very unladylike snort just in time.

"What? It's true. Do you know how often we do stuff to each other?" Harry shrugged. "It's fun."

"What do you mean 'stuff,' Master?"

Harry thought for a moment. There was a look of extreme concentration on his face as his lips moved silently. "Last week one of us got set on fire eight times, hit in the bollocks four times, King-smacked three times, hurt for an egg violation three times, knocked to the ground by an overenthusiastic mini-owl three times, knocked to the ground by a thrown mini-owl twice, scratched by a pissed off mini-owl three times, suffocated in the Valley of Death four times, scratched for trying to get suffocated in the Valley of Death once, threatened with sharp bits of metal twice, jinxed five times, sent to the hospital wing twice, probably _should_ have gone to the Hospital Wing three times, fed questionable potions four times, nearly suffered death by poor judgement twice, blown up once, hit by piece of flying furniture twice, hit a piece of furniture while flying three times, whipped - depending on how you count it - once or forty-three times, drugged eight times, forced to rainbow eleven times, exposed to experimental potions three times. There was also twenty-three incidences of involuntary nudity, eighteen instances of involuntary un-nudity and six hundred and fifty-one thefts. Uh, that last one's only like, thirty-something if you only count stuff that was ours to begin with."

Sara stared at him, clearly agast. "Master, how are you even alive?"

"George say I wouldn't've made it a week if we weren't a lot harder to break than muggles," Harry said with a shrug.

"Well, that's absolutely terrible. I think you need to find some better friends."

"Why? I like the ones I've got. They're fun."

Vasia gave him a strange look, like she'd just found something very interesting and would love to study it a bit more. "Your friends hurt, abuse, humiliate and potentially maim each other, and you think it's fun?"

Harry looked at her uncertainly. "Uh, yeah… is that weird?"

"Of course it is!" Sara declared.

"No, it's not," Vasia countered. "Our society has become disturbingly conformist, so much so that anything different is frowned upon. The nail that stands up gets hammered down. But it's important to remember that not everyone thinks alike. If you expect everyone else to conform to your standards, then you're not better than the rest of the idiots out there. So long as all parties consent and no one important is irrevocably harmed, there's little reason to judge it harshly."

"I guess…"

"The Potters were never the sort to conform to the expectations of others," Vasia said. "I daresay they'd find this quite amusing."

Harry perked up. "Really? From what Blaise said…"

"Your three-times-great grandfather would disapprove, there's no doubt about that. But his _father_ would… he… his father…" Vasia slowly trailed off. There was a blank look on her face as she stared at Harry with unseeing eyes.

"Uh, Miss-"

Harry's words seemed to snap her out of the strange fugue.

"Oh, damn it! Even that?" she muttered. Clearing her throat, she shot him an annoyed look. "And there'll be none of this 'miss' nonsense, you understand?"

"Then what should I call you? I mean…"

"Technically we are cousins now, but I find both 'cousin' and 'cous' to be rather unpleasant sounding," she declared, making a disgusted face. "You may think of me however you wish, though something along the lines of an elder sister would be most desirable and appropriate, given my status and responsibilities toward you."

Harry genuinely had no idea what to say to that. 'Out of his depth' did quite cover this situation. He'd grown up surrounded by people who would have done anything to be free of him, people who _hated_ the fact that he was family. What were you supposed to say to someone who seemed to genuinely intend to embrace the role? And it wasn't just that, either. She was standing there saying she wanted to be something closer than was necessary.

Weirdest of all, there was nothing stirring in the back of his mind. That strange feeling - like something big and nasty stirring in its sleep - was nowhere to be found. It'd been popping up lately, an unpleasant bundle of thought and emotion somewhere deep in his brain. Anytime he caught the telltale signs of deception or aggression it'd perk up, rising from its slumber to examine them. Most of the time it would just fade away, having decided the person wasn't an immediate problem.

There were times it didn't, though. Sometimes he found it tugging at his mind, pulling his attention towards people whenever they were around. Sometimes he could swear he felt it shifting and flexing, preparing to do _something_ as soon as they put a foot out of line. And sometimes, very rarely, it would insistently whisper in his ear.

 _Hurt them before they hurt you. Stop the problem now, before it's a problem. Do it while they're still weak and unsuspecting._

He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, obviously. Not even his friends. He was pretty sure having voices in your head telling you to hurt people was just as bad in this world as in the muggle one.

"You don't have to do this, you know…" he muttered. "I know it all helps Blaise somehow, even if I don't get how, but… All you needed was the papers, right? You really don't have to…"

As Vasia examined him, her hand slowly tightened on her wand to point where the leather handle was creaking in protest.

"Family is valuable, Harry. No one should be without it. I can say this for certain because I've lost nearly three," Vasia said softly. "We need people to care about and people who care about us in return. That is why I can understand to some degree Sara's need for a 'master.' It's simply her own way - her _extremely_ warped way - of finding that."

Sara glared at her. "Hey now, that's not nice at all. And it's not just that. It's because being a servant makes life really, really easy."

The other two stared at her.

"What? It does. I don't have to worry about food, clothes or a place to sleep. I don't have to worry about not having someone around to help me out if I'm in a jam. I can let everyone else make the decisions. Don't get me wrong, I'll work as hard as I can, but at least it's' not my fault if something goes wrong," she declared. "A lot of people waste a lot of time wondering what their Purpose is. I don't have to, because now mine's taking care of my Master!"

Vasia sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that, much like Sara, my reasons are not entirely altruistic. Choosing to be a part of your family not just in writing but in truth benefits me as much as it benefits you. Because regardless of how it happened, that means I have a family of three, rather than just two," Vasia said gently. "Had I any reason to believe I would have found the situation disagreeable, no price would have made me accept it. In fact, Blaise would not have even suggested it if his observations hadn't suggested it would be a favorable arrangement. Are you saying you don't find it so?"

The idea that someone would want to be connected to him like this wasn't as foreign as it would have been two months ago. At this point he'd had enough proof that people actually _wanted_ him around to believe it. Mostly. He had a hard time believing it still, but… god knew he understood how it felt to not have a family.

"No," he said, frowning and finally lifting his head to look her in they eye. "I think it's… probably very favorable… uh, sister? That's… kinda silly sounding. Sis?"

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a teenage girl's excited squeal escaped Sara's lips. Without warning she lunged forward and latched onto him, then lifted him off the ground. It was almost the exact sort of thing Angel did, complete with rubbing her cheek against the side of his head.

"Oh~, you're so cute, Master!"

Vasia sighed as she watched her newly-adopted cousin / brother (couther?) try to wiggle out of the maid's grasp. "Sara, put him down. That's a very uncouth way to treat your master."

The maid frowned but gently set him back on his feet. "Fine," she huffed.

"Now, is it safe to assume the others were preparing our lunch while you fooled around down here?" Vasia queried. "Please don't make Harry regret his kindness so soon."

Sara nodded. "Of course I did, Miss. I know how to do my job, you know."

"Good. Harry and I will be eating in the west receiving room. Have it laid out, then gather the girls and see who wishes to enter my brother's service. We'll be needing a new wardrobe for all of them, so warn that foolish shop of yours that we'll be making another large order."

With a look of confusion, Sara protested, "But Miss, it's only been a few months before the older ones were replaced. And an _entire_ wardrobe?"

Vasia paused long enough to give her a disappointed look. "If you truly wish to go through with this, you should learn to consider how you affect your master's image. Do you really intend to serve the Lord Potter in _those_ colors?"

Sara looked down at her dress, then back up at Vasia. "Okay, but… what colors _should_ it be?"

"House Potter's colors, of course," Vasia sighed, but the effect was ruined by a slight, but very noticeable twitch of her lips.

"...and they are?"

"Embers and ash."

* * *

A/N:

Point the first: I know the title's backwards. That's the joke.

Point the second: I'm not going to be neglecting this story as much as I first thought. Short story long: I'm still enjoying writing it and there's still people that seem to enjoy reading it. Not my original reasons, sure, but still good reasons. Updates still might not be as fast as they were before, since I have other things I'd like to work on, but this'll remain one of my primary projects.

Point the fourth: I've posted the first chapter of Unheroic. It's largely a Girl Genius / X-Men crossover, as promised, but probably leans more toward being a megacrossover. I encourage you to check it out, because it's my story and I'm incredibly biased. A passing knowledge of the X-Men universe would be good, but I'm trying to keep it so no real knowledge of Girl Genius is needed going in. It's hard to say how many people've been exposed to it, even when the answer should be "everyone."

There's a lot I want to say about this chapter, but it'd probably be better to wait until after next chapter. Halloween should be done then, so it'll be easier to say something worthwhile without possibly spoiling things.

There's also a few things from this chapter and last that need to go in the glossary. Next chapter will be the last time I post the thing in its entirety for a while. I'll probably throw it up every 4 - 5 chapters, but mostly it'll just be new stuff down at the bottom.

Oh, and the skull thing was all Rooster Teeth. If you didn't know that, watch Red vs. Blue when you're done with Girl Genius.

It also just struck me that this is probably the most lucid and relevant Author's Note I've written. I feel weird, like I'm wearing dirty underwear.

…

Wait. Shit. Which basket was clean?


	23. Blue Stallion Gives You Balls

Something Familiar

Chapter 23: "Blue Stallion Gives You Balls"

AKA: "They Maid A Mistake" - Yeah, I reused a pun. So sue me.

* * *

It was just sitting there in the corner, nestled amongst the bolts of colorful cloth. Contrasted against the bright fabrics as it was, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was massive hunk of dark metal, easily taller than Harry and a foot across at its widest. The top, leaning against the wall, was a simple, textured shaft. It flared out into what Harry assumed was meant to be some kind of handguard - a wide, serrated diamond of metal - then back in. From there it tapered down slowly before turning sharply inward in the last foot of the blade. Its entire length was covered in nasty, uneven barbs and points.

He didn't know how long the sword had been there. He'd just turned his head a bit, and there it was. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that it hadn't been there when he was dragged into the room. Missing a large, horrible-looking sword was the kind of oversight he doubted he'd make. He was equally certain that as he was examining it, it was staring back in return.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him, Master," the maid said as she tugged at his shirt. She tapped her wand in several spots, making minute adjustments he could barely feel, let alone see.

"That's just Sara's familiar," the maid behind him announced, running her wand down his spine. He tried very hard not to squirm as the cloth there shifted, rubbing against his back.

Harry made a mental note: pissing off his head maid was a bad idea.

"He doesn't mean any harm. He just turns up in weird places is all."

Harry continued to observe the sword. "That's a thing that can happen? I mean… it's a sword. Isn't that a little strange?"

"He's some sort of spirit, I guess."

"He just likes to look like that, I guess."

"That's… kind of weird. I mean, weird as in 'weird for a normal person," Harry announced. "I'm pretty sure it barely registers on my scale."

"Ooh, I think you'll be a fun master, Master," the girl in front of him giggled. "But strange or not, you shouldn't touch him. He likes to bite."

Though he'd be the first to admit he wasn't the best judge of things, he was pretty sure she qualified as attractive at least. While she had neither Angel's impossible figure nor Orchid's supernatural beauty, she was quite well formed. Her simple sundress was quite a bit less elaborate than Sara's, but the way it was tight across her chest and loose around her ankles was very nice, in a simple sort of way. Her dark black hair would probably hang to her waist if it hadn't been bound in a tight ponytail on one side of her head and held fast to the side of her chest by a series of ties on her bodice.

The girl behind him unfortunately looked exactly the same. He had enough experience to know twins were trouble, so he'd been prepared for it since the moment he saw them.

They were adorned with what was apparently House Potter's traditional colors: a dark, dark grey and a muted crimson. If there was any doubt in his mind, the tight choker and simple brooch they wore dispelled it. His strange slashed crest was displayed prominently on the jewelry. The pair was, apparently, part of the gaggle of maids he'd acquired

Actually, he wasn't really sure he had a 'gaggle' of maids. He wasn't real clear on what the right word to use there. Maybe a gang of maids, or possibly a band? A swarm of maids definitely didn't seem right, but it was still better than a murder or horde of maids. A host of maids was equally off-putting.

Caught in his completely inane train of thought, he didn't notice the argument until someone shouted over his shoulder.

"He needs to raise his arms! Master, raise your arms!"

"He needs to spread his arms! Master, spread your arms!"

"I need to fix his hem, Lisa!"

"I need to fix his cuffs, Lara!"

"Master, raise them!"

"Master, spread them!"

"Stop it!" Harry shouted, effectively ending the argument. "We'll settle this like me and my friends do, okay?"

Behind him, Lisa scowled at her sister. "Okay, Master, that sounds like a good idea."

In front of him, Lara scowled at her sister. "Okay, Master. Why didn't you say that before?"

"Lara's right. It would've made things a lot easier."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

Harry nodded sagely. "It's real easy: just kick her ass. The first one to hit the floor or be incapacitated by crippling pain loses."

Lisa and Lara stared at the boy, then slowly looked up to stare at each other.

"Uh, why don't you go first, Lisa?" Lara suggested.

"Uh, that's a really good idea, Lara," Lisa agreed.

"Well, fine. If you don't wanna do it the fun way, that's okay," Harry muttered.

The pair stared at him again.

"I think we're probably glad Master's our master, Lisa,"

"I think you're probably right, Lara."

"Master's side is probably the right side to be on."

"Master's side is probably the scariest side to not be on."

Harry sighed. "Look, can you stop calling me that? It's really weird, you know."

The pair froze.

"We… can't call you Master?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I'd really rather you didn't," he said. After examining Lara for a moment, he continued, "Uh, why does that make you upset? It's better to just call me my name, right?"

"Big Sister Sara said that that's the right thing for your servants to call you," Lara said sadly.

Lisa nodded. "If we can't call you master, then we're not your servants."

"I don't really know if that makes a whole lot of sense, but why would you want that, anyway?" Harry inquired. "I know Sara said it makes life easy, but does it really matter what you call me?"

Lara tilted her head and gave him a thoughtful look. "Names are very important things, Ma- uh, they're important."

"Especially when you're talking about magic, Ma- uh, they're important," Lisa continued. "How you feel about something and what you call it can make a big difference."

"If you say you're our master and don't act like it, it could cause problems."

"If we say we're your servants and don't act like it, it could cause problems."

"That wouldn't be good, because having a master means we'll always have food."

"That wouldn't be good, because having a master means we'll always have a home."

"We'll have a family again-"

"-and someone to take care of us."

"Wait. Back up," Harry broke in. "What was that thing about a family?"

The girls exchanged a look over his head.

"He didn't know about that, Lisa."

"Maybe mentioning that was bad, Lara."

Harry sighed. "Well, you mentioned it now, so spill it. What'd you mean?"

"We're half bloods. Our mother was a witch, but she died in our fourth year. When the magical parent dies, the kid gets a choice: stay with the muggle parent, or become a ward of Hogwarts and have their existence erased from the muggle world."

"We chose to stay with Dad at first, but he was a wreck. He couldn't get over Mom's death. So we went and said we changed our mind wanted to be erased."

"Dad lost all his memory of us and magic-"

"-which meant he basically never met Mom."

Harry stared at the woman in front of him. "Doing that was-"

"Terrible?"

"Horrible?"

"-really nice."

Lara fixed her gaze on him with an unbelieving look on her face. He didn't even need to see her to know Lisa was doing the same behind him.

"What? It was. You gave away your only family so your dad would be happy."

"Uh… well…" Lara paused to clear her throat. "All the other girls are kind of the same. It's hard to find a good job if you're a half-blood or a muggleborn. There's really only two ways. We didn't have the money to buy our way in, and the other way doesn't taste very good."

"Rather starve in a ditch," Lisa muttered, earning a nod from her sister. "That's why we're all here. Sara'd find us, and Vasia'd make up jobs for things that don't actually need doing."

"It turned out we're good at making clothes for muggles and idiot purebloods, so we design everything for Vasia's fashion lines," Lara declared proudly. "But not everyone here turns a profit."

"*Candice*" Lisa coughed into her hand.

"Oh, be nice. She probably does more actual work than Sara does."

"Well, Candice can actually use magic, can't she?"

"Sara can't use magic?" Harry asked in shock.

"Oh, no. They expelled her from Hogwarts, snapped her wand and sealed off her core," Lisa lamented.

Lara nodded. "Totally disgusting. I mean, I know _something_ happened in her last year, but that's got to be overkill."

"We were only first-years when it happened, so we don't know much about it."

"I bet it has something to do with that-" she gestured toward the empty corner the sword had once occupied. "-the sword, I mean. We don't know what, though."

"Anyway, be sure to tell the others the M-word is off limits," Lisa sighed. "Don't expect them to handle it as good as us, though. We're definitely a little more stable than most."

"That scares me."

"It probably should, since-"

"-we're your problem now."

Harry shook his head. "How do you do that? Is there like, some sort of secret twin school I don't know about? Do they teach you all that creep stuff that gives me a headache?"

"Oh, we're not twins, silly!"

"We get that a lot, though."

Harry studied Lara with a suspicious look on his face. "You're not twins?" he asked skeptically. "You just happen to look, sound and act exactly alike?"

"So, here's the thing: we really _aren't_ twins, god's honest truth. We're actually the same person."

"We were born twice at exactly the same time. There's two of us, but there's really only one of us."

"You're putting me on," Harry accused.

"Nope. Mom worked for the Ministry doing a lot of shady research. She was in charge of their temporal development division."

"Playing with time is a bad, bad thing. In our case, it resulted in one existence being split into two entities via a temporal paradox."

Harry groaned. "Sometimes life hurt my brain."

"You should probably get used to it," Lara suggested. "You're all set now. Someone'll be waiting for you outside." Lisa gave him a little wave. "Bye-bye, Ma- uh…"

"Master," Harry finished in a resigned tone. "It's 'Bye-bye, Master.'"

The pair stared at him in disbelief for several second, then gave him a pair of brilliant smiles.

"Bye-bye, Master!" the chorused.

Harry sighed.

* * *

The small creature darted through the air, producing a sound akin to that of an armored owl as it buzzed around. At first glance, it looked something like an adorable kitten. The fur, shape and size were all right. The wings, on the other hand, were the first clue something was off. The dragonfly like appendages were nearly invisible as they flapped.

The soulless, black compound eyes were the second clue. They were just… uhg. Like something out of Lovecraft's nightmares, they were shining black pits that opened into the end of time itself.

"What _is_ it?" Angel asked quietly as her eyes followed the creature around.

"It's a flying-insect-kitty-thing," her companion proclaimed proudly. Her eyes were following it too, their sickly yellow irises shifting back and forth as her nine pupils - eight smaller around a large one in the center - tracked it.

Angel made an impressed noise. "I've never seen a flying-insect-kitty-thing! Not even inna other place!"

"Yeah. I'm not supposed to hurt them, though," the other girl huffed. She collapsed backward, her naked rear thudding against the attic floorboards. "My Yauko likes them for some reason. She says they're cute."

"But… It looks crunchy…"

The girl nodded. "Oh, they _are._ Really crunchy. But Yauko yells at me. If she likes them so much, maybe I should've been cute like that…"

Angel examined her dark-skinned companion. Her skin was a dark grey, her hair much lighter and falling loosely her waist. Body lean and well-toned, she possessed an abnormally curvy figure for someone in her physical condition. She wasn't quite up there with Angel, but there definitely was a little junk in that trunk.

"But… Calli is pretty! You're a pretty spider! That's good too…" Angel protested. "And you're a nice spider. You got me all the treats!"

Callidora sighed as she tugged at her hair. "Cute's better than pretty _and_ nice. It's not fair. People see me and they get all afraid I'm gonna eat them."

" _Do_ you eat the peoples?" Angel asked curiously.

"Only the bad ones," Calli replied dismissively. "I'd never eat someone unless Yauko said I can."

"Oh, that's okay then. And don't worry! My Boy is nice. _He'll_ like you! He likes lots of scary things."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Like a plant that eats people. And a owl that kills lots of owls! And a water lady that tries to drowned you with hugs! She gives re~ally good hugs. Oh! Oh! And there's a boy that breaks walls with heads. Or breaks heads with walls. Depends on the head and the wall, I guess."

"I guess it's good he's our lord, then," Calli decided. She worked her tongue around in her mouth and used her free hand to pull a long white strand out. "A lot of people are scared of me. They always worry about what I _can_ do, and not what I _am_ doing…"

"Ooh~, deep," Angel whispered.

"Really? Was it? Was that deep?"

"Uh-huh."

Calli gave a proud smile. "See? And people say I'm not smart."

"Oh, no. I know a icy girl that's lots less smart than you."

"Well, that's nice to know. Here, help me up and give me a hand with my webs," Calli requested. "Yauko'll be mad if I'm all naked when I meet our lord. We should probably find you some clothes, too."

"Flower's not really good at flowering when the rest of her's far away. I dunno why the girl hadta break all her viney things. Why do people get all mad why you play with them?" Angel whined. "Do I _have_ to get clothesed?"

"Why are you asking me? He's _your_ master."

"Sigh. I hate clothes. They're icky."

"Sigh. I know. Me too," Calli agreed. "Here, why don't you do what I do? Lift your arms up."

"Okay, what're- Gah! Ew, you've gotta warn people before you do that!"

"Sorry."

"It's all over my chest… white and gooey… eww…"

"Hey, it's not that gross. It's perfectly natural."

"That's easy for you to say! You're not the one with the white stuff in her eyes!"

"I was _aiming_ for your chest! It's not my fault you're wiggling around."

"Eww… I got some in my mouth…"

"Just swallow it or something. God, stop whining. Just stay still and let me finish."

"But…"

"Look, don't make me hold you down, okay? It's fun when they struggle, but Yauko is going to be mad if I don't turn up soon. Are you going to be good, or do I have to force you?"

"Fine. Just keep it away from my eyes."

"Don't worry. There's a lot of other places I'm going to stick it."

"Oh, look what you did! My thighs are all sticky!"

"...uh… I haven't put any webs there…"

"...oh."

…

"Well, that got awkward quick."

"Oh, it's okay! I was just messing with you, anyway!"

"Right. That's it. You're going back in a cocoon."

"Yays! I've never been a cocoon before!"

* * *

"Stop tugging at it. It looks fine."

Harry reluctantly released his collar and put his hand down on the table. "I can't help it. It feels weird. What was wrong with my other clothes?"

Vasia sighed and shook her head, giving him a pitying look. "You must be joking. The fabric was cheap and the workmanship poor. Allowing you to walk around like that would practically be a crime. You are worth far more than that, brother."

Harry's jaw dropped ever so slightly before he caught himself. No matter what he did, however, he couldn't hide his blush.

"Aw~, that's so cute!" Sara cooed from behind him. She'd been standing behind him ever since he'd sat down. He could just barely see her out of the corner of his eye, a couple of feet behind him and to the left. He didn't quite get it, but her reaction when he had tried to get her to sit down suggested it was important to her somehow. "Master, did you know your ears turn red when you blush?"

Pointedly clearing her throat, Vasia glared across the table.

"What? They do," Sara said defensively.

"If you're so insistent about being a servant, you could at least act like one," Vasia said disapprovingly.

Sara pressed a finger to her lips and tilted her head as if in deep thought. "Um, but I'm _Master's_ servant, aren't I? And since Master's the first one to have servants in ages, he pretty much gets to pick how we act, doesn't he?"

"I don't mind," Harry quickly said. "She can act however she wants. Everyone can."

Vasia shook her head. "Somehow I knew you were going to say that," she sighed.

"So did I," Sara giggled with a smug smile on her face. "I don't know about _however_ they want, though. There _is_ a certain level of deference that should be demonstrated. Don't worry though, Master, I'll makes sure they all behave properly."  
"That… kind of worries me," Harry admitted.

In a bland voice, Vasia added, "Not nearly as much as it should worry them…"

"Oh dear. You act like I'm violent and irresponsible."

The sitting room's door slammed open, admitting a struggling Candice. "Oh, like either of those is wrong!" she snapped as she tried to haul a small cart over the threshold. "What is _wrong_ with this thing!?"

"You realize the lifting charms are on the other side, right? It'll just go right through the door if you turn it around," Sara suggested in a clearly amused tone.

Candice glared at her for a moment, then pushed the cart back out of the doorway. A moment later she returned, the wheeled table easily drifting over the door jam. She stared at it for a moment, then turned to give Sara another glare, this time cranked up to 11.

"I hate you."

"My, Candice! Is that any way to act in front of your Master?" Sara gasped in shock. "You should be ashamed!"

"Well, try doing something helpful now and then an maybe I'll be nice. And get _that_ -" she scowled and pointed at the large black sword lying lengthwise on the cart. "-stupid thing away from me!"

"Oh, but he likes you so! You should be nicer to him," Sara suggested. She reached out and easily lifted nearly five feet of barbed steel with one hand.

Harry made another mental note: pissing off his head maid was a _really_ bad idea.

Candice scowled at the sword. "That thing's been a menace ever since I first saw it. It was in my frikkin' wardrobe yesterday! I opened the door and it almost landed on me when it fell out."

Holding it arm's length, Sara gave the dark blade an unhappy look. "What have I told you about bothering Candice, Rend? If you don't behave yourself, I'll be forced to punish you. I think a few nights without sharpening would set you straight."

Harry could swear he saw the blade shiver.

"If it's okay… uh, what is that," Harry asked hesitantly. "The not-twins said it was some kind of spirit?"

With a thoughtful look, Vasia accepted a can of Sprite from Candice. "Brother, do you know-"

" _Blue Stallion_!" Harry screamed. He leapt from his chair so quickly and enthusiastically that it slid a good five feet after hitting the ground. The women watched in shock and confusion as he slammed into Candice's cart, sending snacks, soda and other assorted treats flying in every direction. More foodstuff flew as he violently threw it aside. Finally he stopped, threw up his arms and began laughing maniacally. A small blue can was held in each. "It gives you _balls_!" he roared.

He suddenly flipped to his feet and slammed the cans down on the table. Righting his seat, he dropped into it and casually leaned backward with one arm slung across the its back. With the other hand he deftly opened one of the cans and took a small, almost reverent sip. His pinky was, of course, extended.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Right. So, apparently I work for a madman now. Mad-boy. Whatever," Candace sighed. "Is it too late to reconsider being bound? I'm not sure I wanna work for a frikkin' nutjob."

Sara glared at her and snapped, "Candice! What have I told you about that sort of language? It's very unprofessional, and very disrespectful to our Master."

" _Your_ master. Can't say I'm quite sold on the idea."

"And it's okay. She can say things like that if she wants to," Harry chimed in.

"I can?"

"She can?" Sara echoed with a look of disbelief.

"Sure."

Sara looked at him for a moment more, then turned her pleading gaze towards Vasia. "Miss Vasia, please tell Master it's not alright for her to say things like that!"

The smug smile that answered her pleas was a pretty good indicator that they wouldn't be met with mercy. "I'm afraid I can't, Sara. While she would be wise to reconsider how she talks about my brother-" she shot Candice an annoyed look that caused the maid to take a step backwards. "-it is, ultimately, his decision. Much like his choice to bind you to his service, actually."

"You're… not a nice person!" Sara huffed. She turned her pleading eyes back towards Harry. "Master? You can't let her talk like that. It's not right at all."

In response, Harry slowly raised a hand, palm up. On it rested a can of Blue Stallion. The light gleamed off the leaping horse on front, brilliant and beautiful.

" _Blue Stallion. It gives you balls. Blue balls,_ " Harry said in an unnaturally deep voice. " _When life's rubbing you the wrong way, it'll get that jerk off. Blue Stallion. Buy it. Drink it. Love it._ "

The three witches stood frozen, shocked looks on their faces and bewilderment in their eyes.

"What-"

"-the-"

"-fuck!?"

Vaisa and Sara immediately turned to glare at the other witch.

"...hell?" came Candice's belated correction. "Oh, come on! You were both thinking it, and don't even try to lie about it!"

Harry started, blinked several times and looked around the room in confusion. "Oh. I must've dozed off. Sorry, I'll be fine if I have some more-"

The remaining cans of Blue Stallion exploded into neatly sliced fragments, along with a good-sized chunk of the table. Harry flinched back, raising an arm to shield his face from flying bits of metal and boiling energy drink. There was a scattered collection of tinging and plinking sounds as caffeinated shrapnel rained down across the room.

Candice gave him an apologetic look as she lowered her wand. "Sorry, Master. Thought I saw a dragonfly. Those little bastards 've got a nasty bite to 'em."

"And heaven forbid they burn you with their breath," Sara added solemnly.

"...that's a thing? Like a real, actual thing? There's little, tiny dragons flying around?" Harry asked.

Vasia shook her head. "Not as such. They actually look very much like octopi with wings."

"Then… why're they called dragonflies?"

The women exchanged looks.

"That's actually a very good question."

"Huh. Yeah, I never really thought about it, but it doesn't make a lot of sense," Candice admitted. "I mean, they fly and breath fire, so I can kinda see the connection, but…"

"Maybe whoever named them had never seen a dragon? And octopus either, I suppose," Sara suggested.

Harry scowled and glared down at the table. "Sometimes this place - and by 'place' I mean everywhere - makes my brain hurt. Why not just call them octopiflies or something?"

"Because, Master, that's already a thi-"

Sara's comment was suddenly cut off by the sudden appearance of Candice's hand over her mouth. "Oops. Thought I saw one of 'em on your lips. Be glad I used my hand, not my wand."

"Was she just about to say octopiflies are already a thing?" Harry asked suspiciously.

There was a brief moment of silence, then a pair of nods.

Harry pondered that briefly, his unfocused gaze drifting away from them as he concentrated on his thoughts. Suddenly, his eyes snapped back onto them. "They look like little dragons, don't they?"

There was another pair of nods.

"It's best if you try not to worry about the little things, Brother," Vasia advised. "It's even better if you avoid thinking about them entirely. If necessary, by means of obliviation."

"Or liquor!" Candice added. "That's a lot better than obliviation, as long as _someone_ doesn't forget to restock the Dog's Hair." There was a very pointed glare in Sara's exact direction.

The senior maid gave her a pleasant smile. "My, how terrible. Who could have made such an awful oversight?"

"Whatever," sighed, then muttered, "I could have a hangover for the rest of my life and it'd still be better than…"

Sara frowned as she stared at Candice. Clearing her throat, she conceded, "I suppose a degree of vulgarity is acceptable, if that's what it takes to make you comfortable."

"This sounds really weird, but… Once she does the bindy thing she's mine, isn't she?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I mean, not _mine_ mine, but I'll be the one she listens to, right?"

Sara nodded and gave him a happy smile. "Yes, Master. Once the binding is in place, you will be our supreme authority until either party chooses to break it. Even if that happens, we still will not be able to harm or betray you. In return, you guarantee us acceptable living conditions, the right to invoke your name and the protection of your house. We will be considered to be part of the Potter line in most ways that matter."

"Right… 'Yes' would've worked pretty good."

Sara straightened her uniform in an embarrassed gesture and said, "Yes, then."

"Alright, cool. Really, really weird - like, _really_ weird - but if that's what she wants…" Harry paused, then turned to look at Candice. "Okay. You don't have to listen to anyone else, then. Just do whatever you want. Sara was gonna tell everyone else that anyway."

There was a bit of shocked silence occupying the space that had, just moments before, contained words. Sara looked at Candice with eyes full of fear. Hoping beyond hope that the other girl somehow didn't quite process what'd been said, there was a definite sense of dread as realization lit her face.

"What? I like her. Angel does too, or she wouldn't've played nice with her."

"That was _nice_?"

Harry nodded. "Oh yeah. _Way_ nice. You should see what she does to things she _doesn't_ like."

"I think… I'll skip that. Thanks, though."

"Oh, you don't have to worry. You're like… uh, on TV- Wait, do you know what TV is?"

Candice nodded. "I'm not an idiot, and I'm muggleborn to boot."

"Okay, so if this was a show, Sis'd be the responsible sister that keeps everyone in line, right?"

Vasia smiled and tapped her wand against the leg of the table. "I think I could manage that."

The other two witches shivered.

Harry, completely missing this, pointed at Sara and continued, "And that'd make her the really nice sister that takes care of people."

"My, what a nice thing to say, Master!"

"So that'd make you… uh, the fun sister or the rebel sister or something," Harry decided. "Like, the one everyone acts like they're mad at, but they really like!"

Candice stared at him for several seconds, mouth working as if she was searching for something to say. Eventually she settled on, "I need to get back to the kitchen!" and fled the room, leaving the mess of snacks behind.

"Oh dear," Sara giggled.

Harry stared at the open door in confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Harry. Some people simply don't like to display their emotions to others. Somewhat amusingly, they're often also the sort that wears their heart on their sleeve," Vasia reassured him.

"Oh. If you say so."

"Don't worry, Brother. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Harry frowned at her. "That's not very helpful, you know."

Vasia shrugged.

"Right. Fine. Be that way. Sara?"

"Yes Master?"

"You're kind of in charge, right?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Good. Tell _everyone_ they can do whatever they want," Harry ordered.

"...you were serious? Actually serious? That's really not a good idea."  
"What?" Harry asked. "They should be able to do what they want to do."

"Master-"

Vasia broke in before she could get past the first word. "I don't see any harm in it, Sara. It's not all that different from what they do now."

"Miss Vasia, you realize this will cause problems, right?"

Vasia responded with an evil smile. "Yes, but they won't be _my_ problems, will they? Don't worry, I'm sure you can handle it, Miss Head Maid."

"That's not very nice at all," Sara sighed. Turning to face Harry, she requested, "Master, will you at least amend that a bit? It would be nice if they continued fulfilling their duties, and it would probably be best if it was clear they were not to do anything to shame your house."

Harry considered the request, then nodded. "Okay, as long as they don't have to do too much. And they're not aloud to do anything worse than what I do."

"And that would be…?"

Smiling, Harry proudly proclaimed, "I set the school on fire three times last week. Four if you count the part of the Forbidden Forest that isn't a forest anymore."

"Master, I-"

"Right, back to the subject at hand," Vasia happily declared.

"Oh yeah! So… sword-thing."

"Yes. Right. Well, simply put, conceptual incarnations are an idea given form. For example, the incarnation of our idea of a 'gentleman' would be the epitome of that thought. Charming, well groomed and polite to a fault. I can say that for a fact, as there was one in Hogwarts during my first few years. Half the girls in school had crushes on him, even those old enough to know better," Vasia chuckled.

Harry turned to regard the sword. "So, what is that, then?"

Sara looked at her familiar for a moment, then looked back up at Harry and gave him a sheepish grin. "I… don't actually know."

"Huh?"

"There are certain types of entity that even the Identify Spell has difficulty with, brother. Since conceptual incarnations lack any sort of concrete existence and are ever-changing, it does not always work properly."

"That must be kind of weird, not knowing…" Harry muttered, staring at the sword. Again, he had the sense it was looking back.

Sara shrugged. "We manage, Master."

"Well, now that you've been fed and properly clothed, we'd best get you back to Hogwarts. While I have my rights, there's little doubt the old bastard can make life difficult."

Harry giggled. "Oh, that's okay. I think he's probably pretty busy right now."

"Just hearing that would have been enough to make my day. Still, as soon as we find-"

At exactly that moment, the door to the sitting room burst open. Somehow Harry wasn't the least be surprised to see his familiar on the other side, lowering her extended foot. He _was_ a bit shocked to see her wearing a white sundress of some sort. The cut and fabric were a bit odd, but it was definitely the closest thing to normal clothing he'd seen her wear.

" _There_ you are, My Boy! I've been looking all over and over for you!" she declared happily. "This place is too~ big! Calli was helpin' me look, but she gets lots of distractions way too easy."

Vasia sighed. "That she does. I take it she's been with you, then? I was wondering where she'd gone…"

"Yup! She- Oops. One sec!" she said. Darting back into the hall, she quickly returned hauling something like a large, white sack behind her. The sack was quite obviously moving, and muffled swears and grunt could be heard from with. "See! I took good care of the pretty spider.

"You tied my familiar up with her own webs," Vasia blandly observed.

"Uh-huh! Oh, watch this! It's neat! Hup!" Angel grunted with effort and swung the cocoon around. Giggling, she twisted and hurled it straight up. The white prison slammed into the ceiling, producing a startled squawk, and hung plastered against the wood. "Calli sticks to the roofs!"

"Callidora is an Arachne. She normally sticks to roofs," Vasia said with no small amount of amusement in her voice.

Harry groaned. "Angel, let her out."

"Fi~ne," Angel sighed. There was a click as her claws snapped back into their proper position.

"Wait! Let her-"

Shreds of slashed webbing filled the air. There was another startled shriek as Calli plunged to the ground. From the sound of her impact, it wasn't a pleasant experience.  
"Calli's not a very good spider. She didn't land on her feet!" Angel observed.

"That's cats!" Calli snapped, using the table to steady herself as she climbed to her feet. " _Cats_ land on their feet. _You_ land on your feet, not me."

Angel gave her a confused look. "But Calli has more feet than me. You should be better."

Callidora raised her hand to point at Angel, then paused. With a thoughtful look on her face, "You know, you're right. Weird…"

"Isn't it?"

Harry had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. "Angel, what've I told you about tying someone up with their own vicious bodily excretions?"

Angel slumped slightly and muttered, "I'm sorry, My Boy."

"You actually have a rule about that?" Vasia inquired in an unbelieving tone. "Because… that's very specific."

"Well, after the third time I figured it was better safe than sorry," Harry said with a shrug. "Unfortunately, it was a pretty normal Tuesday."

"I see…" Vasia muttered, even though she totally didn't. "Calli, this is our lord. Greet him properly."

"Hi! I'm- ack!" Callidora released a panicked shout as she took a single step, wobbled and lost her balance. She tried to right herself, but only managed to take several unsteady steps before falling in the other direction. Her face slammed into the table on the way down, then into the floor. "Owie…"

Vasia sighed again. "Callidora does not spend nearly enough time on two legs."

"Because I'm usually on my back when I'm like this," the familiar muttered, climbing onto her hands and knees.

Harry slid out of his chair and crouched to examine her. "Are you okay."

"I- I think I chipped a fang," Callidora whined.

"Here, let me see."  
Vasia's eyes widened. "Calli, don't-"

The lower half of Callidora's face split and unfolded, turning into a massive maw full of vicious teeth. It was definitely not a sight for the faint of heart. To Vasia's surprise, Harry actually leaned in closer to examine the deadly bone spears.

"No, I think you're good."  
"Really?" she asked hopefully. Her voice was distorted and had an odd ring to it, but was otherwise recognizable. "You're sure? 'Cuz I really feel like I chipped one."

"I don't see anything wrong."

"Oh, good," Calli sighed, allowing her face to close. "I was really worried there for a second."

Vasia rubbed her temples as she watched Harry rejoin his familiar. "Callidora, what did I tell you about that?"

"What? He didn't mind, did he?"  
Harry giggled slightly. "Oh man, if you knew how a normal day goes for me."

Angel looked at Vasia with wide eyes. "Don't listen to him. Everything's okay. Everything's normal," she declared in an intense whisper. Raising one hand, he held up a note that said, " _Someone please help me! They're all insane and holding me captive against my will!_ " for Vasia to see.

Harry quickly snatched the note away and glared at it. "Angel, what the heck is this? Did you write it? ...wait, can you even write?"

"While the Bond grants familiars the ability to understand and is some cases speak English, written language is a bit too complex for them," Vasia informed him.

"Too complex?" Angel giggled. "Khel'se'tian script has 529 letters that stand for concepts instead of words. They mean a~ll different things, depending on what they're next to. You can fit enough on a few pieces of paper to fill your dumb books. That's complex."

"That does sound rather complex. You can use this language?" Vasia asked.

"Sa-an ves'i ta'l lien," Angel replied.

[It's a good thing you wipe well, because your dress is so tight I can see your anus.]

"I assume that was a yes?" Vasia stated.

Angel smiled at her. "Not exactly. It means thanks for the noms and stuff. Or something like that, anyway."

"Oh. Well, you are, of course, welcome any time," Vasia said with a smile. "This _is_ your home, after all. It may take us a bit longer to get your room in order."

"My- my room?"

"Of course. As I said, brother, this is your home. It would be strange if you didn't have a room isn't quite ready yet, I'm afraid. It can be quite difficult to find decent craftsmen on short notice," Vasia lamented. "Unfortunately, I could do little before my adoption was complete. That is being remedied now."

"It wasn't complete?" Harry asked in confusion. "I thought all I had to do was sign the paperwork."

"For the most part, yes, but certain things are easier if done in certain ways. For example, having your current guardian acknowledge my claim," Vasia chuckled. "It's unfortunate the withered wad of pond scum was a bit too angry to dispute it when I announced myself as 'Vasia Demi Potter.' Magic can be a finicky thing, and lack of objection is much the same as acceptance in this case. Alas, his chance to deny me has come and gone."

"Oh," Harry whispered, giving her a look of respect and awe. "Is that why you made him so mad? So he wouldn't think to do that?"

"What? No, I just hate the old bastard. When he dies I'll happily find his grave and take a sh-"

Sara cleared her throat quite loudly and pointedly.

"Suffice to say, I dislike him. Now, let's see about getting you back to school."

* * *

Sara paced back and forth across her room.

As far as rooms go, there wasn't much to say about it. It was quite simple compared to the rest of the estate. Some might consider the room large and well-furnished, but no pureblood worth his salt would be caught dead in it. There was a bed, nightstand and wardrobe, but little else. There was only two things noteworthy about it.

Sara suddenly stopped pacing, said something under her breath, and withdrew a knut from within her uniform. The coinage was tossed into the air, spinning rapidly. Eventually it came down and hit the floor. Spinning to a stop, it joined its forty-nine brothers.

A collection of knuts littering the floor was the first thing, just incase you missed it.

Examining the coins, Sara muttered something very unladylike.

Twenty-five heads.

Twenty-five tails.

"Sometimes I wonder if someone's just tormenting us for the fun of it," she hissed, withdrawing another knut. "Fine. One way or another, this is it."

The coin spun through the air, bounced once and rolled to a stop. Sara looked down in disbelief at it. The knut had stopped on edge, leaning up against the leg of an ornate, full-length mirror that had been dragged away from the wall and positioned next to the bed.

That was the second thing.

After several minutes of deep breathing - because she enjoyed it, and not because she was about ready to scream and smash something - she examined the coins again.

Vasia had spent the later part of the afternoon subtly trying to convince the others not to bind themselves to her Master. That wasn't like her, especially since it seemed she genuinely intended to do right by him. It wasn't like Sara hired just anyone off the street. Every girl there would take good care of him and his, given the chance.

There had been a lot of small signs over the past few weeks that something was up. The other girls, being halfbloods or muggleborn, didn't quite see it. The weren't overly familiar with the way a pureblood resources moved, nor how they typically acted. Vasia had been married to her husband for long enough that her actions were easily recognizable to Sara. But the others, they didn't know what was normal and what was strange, and wouldn't know what it meant even if they did. There was some things they'd no doubt picked up on, but it was unlikely they even realized it.

Money and resources had been moving in strange directions.

Vasia had been shifting more and more assets to her investments in the muggle world. All her interests in anything resembling an insurance company had been purged, quickly and sometimes at a loss. Meanwhile, what she left in the magical world was shifting towards construction and medical investments.

Lack of faith in magical businesses. Insurance companies were being considered a liability. Anticipation that the need for medical treatment and construction would rise.

No matter how you looked at it, those weren't good signs.

On top of that, she'd been speaking to the Greengrass matriarch again, and more frequently before. It was something she'd shied away from in the past. The Greengrass were typically associated with the Zabini, and it paid to be careful whose toes you stepped on in the business world.

It didn't help that Dylan "Dickbutt" Zabini took the contact personally. The funny part was that it wouldn't have been an issue if he wasn't such a self-important prick.

Now it seemed that Vasia was _strengthening_ ties with the Greengrass, rather than avoiding them. From what she'd overheard, it almost seemed like she and Victoria Greengrass were old friends.

It didn't really add up to a clear picture, but it was fairly obvious that Vasia was pretty sure _something_ would be happening soon. In the next few years, at the latest.

If it involved Vasia, it involve her Master. Vasia wouldn't get him involved unless it was necessary. That suggested it involved him to begin with, or he was a keystone in it. What was Harry Potter best known for?

When your answer involves a terrorist 'Dark Lord' it was usually good to err on the side of caution.

She wasn't about to let anything happen to Harry, who'd shown such blind faith in her because of a stupid reason like, "I like her."

She wasn't about to let anything happen to Vasia, who'd shown he kindness and mercy she didn't deserve because of a stupid reason like, "Such a pretty thing shouldn't be out here in the rain."

So, it came to this.

Suddenly Sara turned an plopped onto the bed. She carefully straightened her skirts and faced the mirror.

"Alice," she called.

Several minutes passed before she called, "Alice," again.

Several more minutes passed. Frowning, Sara hissed, "Fine, have it your way."

She drew in a huge breath and began to call out in a sing-song fashion:  
"A~lice."

"A~lice."

"A~lice."

"Alice, Alice, A~lice!"

"A~~lice."

"A~~~~lice."

"A~li~ce~!"

And so, time went by…

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, her reflection turned to glare at her. "Enough!" it snapped. "What do you want!?"

"Oh, I was hoping you'd answer eventually!"

" _Eventually_!? It's been over four hours, Sara. Do you know how hard it is to sleep when your bathroom mirror keeps calling out your name? Honestly, even right after they broke your wand you barely made it an hour," the reflections said. While clearly annoyed, her voice was surprisingly neutral and uncaring.

Alice gave the reflection a thoughtful look. "I suppose I have a bit more to worry about now. I'm a little surprised you have mirrors around. I assumed you threw them all away."

"I _do_ like to look at myself now and then. Well, assuming my useless reflection hasn't wandered off again," Alice muttered. "Anyway, it's been ages. There's only one person that knows that trick, and she knows _exactly_ how much I want to talk to them."

"I'm sorry Alice, but this is important. I need your help."

It was quite an odd thing to see your own reflection a disgusted look. "Figures you want something from me. Eight years away and it's still not enough. I'm going back to bed," Alice declared, turning away. "Bug me again and I'll paint over every reflective surface in my apartment."

"Wait! Alice, Wait! Please!" Sara pleaded.

The reflection froze immediately. Slowly turning back around, it softly asked, "Did you just say 'please.'"

"Yes. Please."

The reflection slowly walked back up the glass. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that before," it declared. "Fine. You've got my attention for about three minutes. Make it quick."

"Could you… Could I talk to you in person?"

Her reflection gave her a very annoyed look. "Anything you have to say, you can say it through the glass," it replied coldly.

"Alice… It's important. Please. It's for my family. I don't want to just..."  
"You don't have a family, Sara. If that's the best-"  
"I do now!" Sara broke in. "I do. They're not the family I started with, but they're… probably better, anyway. I have sisters. I have a M- brother. I have something like a mother, though I'd probably catch a crop upside the head if she knew I said that. It's for them, and it's too important to talk about without actually talking to you."

The reflection examined her for several seconds before replying, "Fine. You're paying for my plane ticket back here, though. There's no one on this end to call me back."

"Plane ticket?" Sara asked. "Where are you, Alice?"

"Russia."

Looking at her in surprise, Sara inquired, "Why in the world are you in Russia?"

"Because my living arrangements are acceptable, and because it's suitably far from the people I have no interest in seeing," Alice replied. "How big is your mirror?"

With a sad pout, Sara answered, "It's a full-length."

"Move. You're in the way."

Obliging, Sara scooted several feet to the side.

The reflection reached towards the glass.

There was a slight ripple as a pair of slim hands emerged from the mirror. Their long, black nails scraped across wood as they felt along top of the frame. Eventually they curled around it, securing handholds along the top. With a faint grunt the reflection reared back, swinging her body away from the mirror and raising her feet. She swung back forward, thrusting her body out and arching her back to throw herself through the glass. There was another, larger ripple as a body catapulted out of the mirror and landed neatly on the bed.

"You know I hate full length mirrors. Going from a small one to a big one is a pain."

"I'm sorry. It's what I had," Sara apologized, examining the other girl.

Alice looked almost exactly like she had eight years ago. She was still thin and wiry, enough so that under some conditions it would be easy to mistake her for a boy. Her short, messy mop of hair was black with random red streaks. Just like before, she preferred a punk / goth style of clothing. A tight, red long sleeve shirt was covered by a loose, torn black one. Her black jeans were equally ragged, sporting a barely recognizable leering skull.

"Let's just get this-" Alice froze, eyes fixed on her. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Sara straightened her dress self consciously. "My uniform. It's for my job."

"You're a hooker now?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Sara sniffed with an affronted look. "I'm a _maid_. Why would you assume I'm a hooker!?"

"I considered that too, but the other one seemed more likely," Alice admitted. Extending a hand towards the other witch, she ordered, "Sara. Come here."

The maid looked at the hand in disbelief for a moment, then took a hopeful step forward.

"Alice, I-"  
Alice's first two fingers rammed into her forehead. " _Odhaliť_ ," she snapped. Magic power surged down her fingers and impacted Sara's forehead with a hiss, giving her a nasty sting.

"Gah!" she squawked, darting backwards, "Alice, what're you-"  
"The last time you saw me in person, what was the last thing you said to me?" Alice demanded.

"...what?"

"The last thing you said to me. Tell me what it was," Alice insisted.

Sara paused, then sighed. "I said… 'Please forgive me Alice, I was just trying to-"

"That's enough. Why are you claiming to be a maid?" Alice replied, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I _am_ a maid. At least, I will be once Miss Vasia figures out the right contracts to write. No one's used one in centuries," Sara admitted. "But Master-"  
"What!?" Alice snapped, giving her a shocked look. "What did you just say?"

Sara glared at her and continued, "I was _going_ to say that Master has already been kind enough to accept myself and the others, even though we're not bound to him yet."

"Bound… _Bound_ bound? Are you seriously talking about-"

"Signing a contract of servitude. My loyalty for his. His care for mine. His protection of me for my obedience to him. That kind of bound."

Alice dropped onto the bed with a look like someone had just told her up was a picked turnip, and that she had to eat it with nothing but her left nostril and a second-hand mouse. "Okay, I give. What the hell is going on?"

"It's really quite simple, and just as I said," Sara insisted, sitting on the bed next to her. "My girls are my sisters. Miss Vasia is also very important to me, and Master is… well, he's adorable, but also my master. I have to take care of them, but I'm worried something bad is going to happen. I was hoping you could help me figure out what and what I should do about it. You've always been much better at that sort of thing than me."

Alice was giving her another very freaked out look.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?"

"How the hell am I supposed to look at you, Sara?" Alice demanded. "You're asking for help. You're saying 'please.' You're claiming to be a maid and calling someone 'Master.' I'm half tempted to throw you to the ground and hit you with the Torn Veil Spell over and over until it works."

"Please don't. That stung," Sara complained, rubbing her forehead. "What was that, anyway?"

"Like I said, it was the Torn Veil Brand. It's a Slavic spell used to reveal shapechangers. We have a fairly major problem with them over there."

"I see. That does sound quite useful. And you can cast it without a wand?" Sara inquired, clearly impressed.

Alice shrugged. "I cast everything without a wand. The few spells I can still use, anyway."

"What? Why!?"

"Because I don't have a wand anymore," Alice answered. "It had an accident. And then it had another one, and a few more after that."

"Alice-"

"I'd like to get this over with and get home. I need a clearer picture of I'm going to be of any use. This 'Master' of yours, why are you so willing to serve him?"

"What does-"

"Answer me, Sara," Alice broke in.

"I… Miss Vasia, she took me in. She saved me. Even though I was useless, couldn't use magic and didn't deserve it. I owe her more than I can ever repay. Now she says the same thing about Master, how he helped Blaisie, and that there is nothing she can do that could equal that," Sara explained. "So, if I can lessen her debt to Master by giving my debt to him, I will do so gladly."

"So you _owe_ people things now, too? That's kind of hard to believe."

"People change, you know," Sara huffed.

"Not that much. Your 'master,' tell me about him."

Sara nodded. "His name is Harry Potter, and-"  
"You're _Harry Potter's_ maid? Jesus, your family would totally lose it if they knew that," Alice chuckled.

"Do you have to bring them-"  
"Nevermind. That's all I need to know there. There's got to be people lining up around the block to off that kid. It's kind of amazing he made it this far, actually," declared Alice. "Why do you think something's up?"

So Sara told her, in as much detail as she could manage.

"Damn. You're right. That doesn't sound good at all," Alice muttered. "There's probably something like a 98% chance it's what's left of the Death Eaters, but this is too much if she's just worried one of them's out for revenge."

"So… what should I do?"

Alice shook her head. "Don't know. There's not enough here to get more than a really, really rough picture of what's going on, let alone what you should do about it."

"Oh."

There was nearly a full minute of silence following Alice's proclamation.

"This master of yours," Alice suddenly spoke up. "Does he treat you well?"

Sara gave her companion a surprised look, but replied, "I've only met him once, but… Yes. I do believe quite firmly that he will. He's already hooked Candice quite effectively, and did a fair job on Lisa and Lara as well."

"He pays good?"  
"Well… if he intends to follow Miss Vasia's arrangements, he won't pay us at all. We receive food and shelter, and are permitted to purchase anything we need with the house's funds. Anything we want, too, so long as it's within reason."

"Good enough," Alice declared. "I'm working for him now."

Sara gave her a blank look. "...what?"

"It was a fairly simple statement. I work for him now. Or are you telling me you don't even have enough pull to get me hired?"

"How rude!" Sara gasped. "I'll have you know that I am House Potter's head maid. _I_ oversee the staff, and am responsible for acquiring them."  
Alice nodded. "Good. That makes things easy. Do I get a room like this, or is it just this nice because you're in charge?"

"This is actually one of the more modest rooms, and I don't recall saying that you-"

"You don't really have a choice if you want my help," Alice pointed out. "I was getting sick of Russia anyway. Too cold."

"..."

"I'm pretty curious. What kind of people managed to make you call them 'miss' and 'master?'"

"They are both-"  
"Super. I'll take the job. Thanks for the offer."

"Fine," Sara sighed. "You'd most likely just lurk about in the mirrors anyway, so you might as well make yourself useful."

"Works for me. But Sara? I'm doing this because you owe me at least this much, and because I think it'll get interesting. We _aren't_ friends. We aren't _anything_. Understand?" Sara demanded.

Looking down at the floor sadly, Sara nodded.

"Good. Where's my room? Do you have anything smaller than this, because I'm pretty sure it'll make me feel a bit agoraphobic after Russia…"

* * *

Vasia sighed as she crumpled another piece of parchment and tossed it aside. It joined the remains of two full rolls on the floor below.

Writing a magical contract wasn't nearly as easy as some people thought. Sure, there was all sorts of pre-enchanted parchment out there. You could just write your terms on it and get on with your day. The problem with those, however, was that they weren't nearly as powerful as a _real_ contract.

Inscribing a true contract required the writer to - quite literally - weird a quill like they would a wand. It was one of the very few commonly used magics that didn't rely on a magic twig. Each and every stroke had to be filled with magic. The wording of contract had to be _just_ right, much like a rune array. The terms had to be burned deep into the paper, much like they would be onto those that signed it.

Standard business contracts were one thing. There was all sorts of them to base a new one off of. But a contract like this, one that hadn't been seen in centuries, was another thing altogether. Making any sort of progress was slow and frustrating.

Which is why she was a bit annoyed when something cold and sharp pressed against the front of her neck.

"Don't move," a quiet voice instructed from behind her.

Sighing, Vasia did just that. "My, how stereotypical," she said in an unimpressed voice. "I don't suppose you're a fan of muggle movies, are you? Because if this conversation is going to be full of overused cliches, it is going to get boring quickly."

"Funny."

"My apologies. I _do_ tend to get sarcastic while being held at knifepoint. I'm afraid it's something of a personal failing," Vasia lamented. "I'm not the sort of lady that enjoys male visitors this late, though I suppose I can see where my preferred clothing gave you the wrong idea."

"The boy. Why?"

A look of realization lit up on Vasia's face. "Oh~, you're the Eyes then. Why didn't you say so? The Zabini - myself alone now, I suppose - are the Bones. You've nothing to fear."

"...what?"

"We are the Bones. We are… we're, um… I'm sorry, what was I talking about?" Vasia asked with a confused look on her face.

"Eyes," her visitor snapped, pressing the blade tighter against her neck.

"Oh, of course! You should know that we… we both… both…"

There was a pause as her expression became hazy and unfocused.

The touch of steel against her throat lessened ever so slightly. "You're under a geas."

"Yes! Thank you," Vasia said, her expression lighting up again. "I can talk about that now. Yes, I am indeed under a geas. It's been going around, actually."

"What is it?"

Vasia sighed. "And you were doing so well for a moment. Do you really think I can tell you that? If you can recognize one, I think you'd _know_ better. Maybe you're not as smart as I _suspected_."

"Smart enough to take an obvious hint, at least. There's a subject you can only talk about if the person listening knows, or at least strongly suspects, the information. I assume you also have to be aware they possess that knowledge."

"Exactly. Oh, you _are_ quite smart. You might even make a decent pet," Vasia said with an indulgent smile. "If my brother was a quarter as intelligent as he is, he might only make five of you."

"Very funny," the voice said blandly. "What does this have to do with your involvement with the Potters?"

"This would be quite a bit easier if I spoke to someone from your main line. They will possess enough knowledge for us to get somewhere."

"No," the cold voice replied.

"Really? I'd be willing to set up an appointment for them. At their convenience, of course," Vasia offered.

"No,' was repeated.

Vasia frowned. "Look, I don't think you understand-"

" _You_ don't understand," the voice interrupted. The edged weapon pressed tighter against her throat again. "There is no main line. Not anymore."

Freezing, Vasia quietly said, "What?"

"There - is - no - main - line," the voice repeated, as if speaking to an unusually dim child. "They're dead. All of them."

Vasia's eyes slowly widened in horror. "No, that can't be. That means… is there no one among you who remembers?"

"Remembers what?"

"Your past."

There was a long, long pause. "What do you know about that?" the voice demanded. "What do you know about our past?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

" _Who are we_?" the voice growled. "If you know who we are, tell me! What is our name!?"

"Oh. Oh, I'm… I'm so sorry. Even were it not for the geas, I could not tell you. We have, for the most part, forgotten about each other. The other house I know of, we only retained our memory because of our close association. Even then, the fact that we are allies is _all_ most know. I have had some contact with the Claws, but the limitations imposed on us makes trading information difficult. I do not even know who _they_ are, and your clan was supposedly the most secretive of all."

"I see. You know nothing, you're useless and you're possibly a threat. Forgive me, but your fate was sealed the moment you tried to take advantage of the Potter heir," the voice said without a trace of regret. The blade pressed deeper into her flesh. "Goodb-"

"Your family has in their possession six objects which they treasure above all others. Each of these objects has a simple crest made of lines and nothing but scrawled somewhere on them."

"..."  
"I assume I may continue? One of these items is… let's see, they Eyes were… a coin. A knut, but not a knut. On one side a symbol like a cracked diamond is carved. The other has nothing but a gouge. Once a month, if offered a substantial sacrifice of valuables, it may be flipped to indicate whether a specific choice is a good or bad course of action. Its pronouncements are not absolute, but certainly accurate.

"The second is an ornate crystal phial. It is slightly larger than normal and has an has a crest like a question mark on it. Upon command, it may transfer any liquid the holder owns into itself. It is excellent if you need access to a wide variety of potions and do not wish to carry them. Is that at all correct?"

"How do you know that?"

Vasia shook her head, heedless of the blade. "As I said, our families were associated, though I cannot tell you how," she said regretfully, placing her quill on the desk. Slowly lowering her hand, she covered a small, silver earring. "Now, I do believe that is enough of that. Girls, if you would?"

"Wha-"

There was a strange tearing sound behind him. The word "sound" didn't quite describe it right. The visitor didn't hear it with his ears, he felt it in his bones. Even as he was turning, a pair of cheerful voices said, "Hi~!" in chorus.

He turned and slashed with his knife, hitting nothing but air.

"Wow. What in the world was he aiming at, Lisa?" a female voice came from the corner.

"Wow. I have no idea, Lara," the same voice replied.

Whipping out his wand, the visitor spun to face the source of the voices.

Lisa, or maybe Lara, stood in the corner, giving him a pitying look. Her body was flickering and rippling like the picture on a damaged TV. As he watched, her right arm came up to point at him. The odd part was that her arms remained crossed, though the right was considerably hazier than before.

"You know, you kind of suck for someone who thinks he's a badass," she said. "You know, I wouldn't be breaking into people's houses if I sucked like you.

The girl put her left and right arms on her hips and raised her wand in her left and right hands.

"Left or right, feel free to dodge. There's two of me and one of you," she giggled. "Left or right, feel free to run. I'll tell you now, you won't get far."

Vasia smiled and turned to face her visitor.

Surprisingly, he was clothed in very muggle clothing. Loose, black cargo pants and a baggy hoodie of the same color made it hard to get any sense of his general shape. His hood was up, and a strip of fabric was wrapped around his lower face. Despite the well-lit room, it was hard too see much more than shadows under the hood.

"Well. You certainly go all out, don't you?" Vasia observed in an amused tone. "I'd say you were quite clumsy and careless as well, were it not for your friend in the invisibility cloak."

The right wall shredded itself apart, raining to the floor in small, neat chunks. There was another tearing sound, this time quite mundane, as scraps of gauzy fabric filled the air. Half of an invisibility cloak vanished, revealing a second visitor - dressed exactly like the first, moving toward Vasia. The woman looked down at herself in disbelief, eyes lingering on the shallow cuts in her side.

"Woops," Candice muttered, kicking out one of the remaining chunks of the wall as she stepped through. "Thought th' wall was a bit tougher than that. Didn't mean to take the whole damn thing out."

"That's quite alright," Vasia said. Smiling at the woman that had just been revealed, she announced, "Candice has quite the remarkable talent when it comes to spells that cut things. I wasn't even aware that so many of them existed. I'm certain I've never seen another with her skill or precision."

"Precision? I was trying to take the damn bitch's head off!" Candice muttered with a scowl. "Where the hell were you guys on that?"

"Please. Do you really think it's easy to explain where someone was/will be two minutes ago/from now?" they asked together. There was a brief pause. "Oopsies. We are/will be/were too far out of sync."

There was another not-tearing sound as she stepped in two different directions at once.

"Ooh~, going forward give me a headache," Lisa complained.

"Ooh~, going backward kills my stomach," Lara joined in.

"While I like to think about myself as a bit of a philanthropist, I'm afraid I cannot bring myself to hire anyone but the best," Vasia declared pleasantly. "As you can see, I'm quite fond of those who 'break the mold' and aren't afraid to show it."

Candice smirked. "That's what she damn well gets, too. Either of you move and this room's frikkin' shredded lettuce. I'll turn the whole thing inta chunks, 'cuz they'll have Miss Vasia outta here five minutes ago."

"Oh, please don't move… urk… I need stome Pepto."

"Oh, please don't move… ow… I need some painkillers."

Vasia shook her head. "That's quite alright, girls. I only wished to demonstrate that it was foolish to think invading my home was a wise decision. Hopefully this will allow us to act as equals and adults, so that we might have a civilized conversation. Would you care to sit?" she asked, gesturing towards a pair of chairs."

Unsurprisingly, neither took her up on the offer.

"Fine. If you're going to be like that…" Vasia took her quill back up and jammed it straight in her other palm. She quickly used the blood covered tip to draw out a simple array on a piece of parchment. She then slammed her palm down on it and said, "I swear upon my living blood that I mean no harm to Harry James Potter, for my own benefit or otherwise.

There was a violent crackle across the parchment. The blood upon it tore itself up off the paper, formed itself into thin chains and whipped around her hand and forearm. An instant later it was gone, vanishing into her skin.

"That was-"

Vasia smirked at them. "Now, I assume that will suffice. So, the question is this: if you remember nothing, what is your interest in my brother?"

"We remember our debts. We remember our duty," the woman proclaimed. "We will do what we have sworn to do. We don't need to remember why."

"Quite remarkable loyalty. If that is your motivation, why did you not help James and Lily Potter?" Vasia inquired. "Surely your aid could have given them a better chance."

The man shifted. Even though she couldn't see it, Vasia was certain he was scowling. "James Potter was _not_ a Potter. There was hope there at first, but…"  
"When confronted and pursued, James Potter fled like prey. He was run aground and slaughtered in his own home," the woman continued. "He was not worthy of our respect. We do not remember much, but we remember enough. Potters do not run. Potters are not _prey_."

"I would certainly agree with that," Vasia said. "I take it Harry is more to your liking?"

"Everywhere he goes, he leaves chaos and destruction in his wake."

"He immediately found others of the same mind, and won their loyalty."

"Even now, Hogwarts is being devastated by disaster after disaster, simply because they've decided they dislike the status quo and shattering it into nothing amuses them."

Vaisa gave them a wide smile. "Yes, that is quite promising, isn't it? I'll ask you again: won't you have a seat? I think a calm discussion would benefit all parties greatly."

Glancing at each other, the invaders slowly sat down.

* * *

A/N:

Whee.

I actually meant for the end of the Prankopolypse to be in this chapter, but it ended up running long. Big surprise there, right? Next chapter will probably be sort of a mini-chapter, the end of the Prankopolypse and some other bits.

I know there was kind of a ton of ploty bits in this one. Sorry about that, but that's just how it ended up. I feel it's a little further towards the serious side than I generally like, but it is what it is.

To make up for it, I make you this promise:

Some seriously fucked up shit is gonna go down next chapter. When I say that, I mean that this story is finally going to get a little weird. I haven't even started it, but I already have no words to describe it. I was actually giggling at work the other day, scaring the piss out of my customers. If you saw me giggling, you'd understand.

So, next chapter: evolution in progress, the world's most fucked up zoo, lots of drugged preteens, tentacles, squirrel-paults, the hazards of Hogwarts, Ron's a moron, at least one furry tsunami, owls, dead owls, owl-on-swallow action, it's always the quiet ones and a massive free-for-all.

Probably.

As far as this chapter goes…

Yes, Alice is Alice Liddell. Not _the_ Alice Liddell, though. She's something like the fourth or fifth one. Seems her family got a hardon for the name after the Wonderland crap went down, and now there's one in every generation since.

Yes, some serious shit went down there.

I've tried to make this clear a few times, but Vasia genuinely considers Harry family and wants to support him. For reasons, she values the concept of family quite a bit. A boy left alone - and abused by his family - is enough for instant sympathy. To top it off, he _is_ technically related to her son. When you add the fact that he basically insured Blaise is in position to dickpunch his uncle because of Harry, I think her loyalty is quite reasonable.

I've also tried to make the maids' motivation clear. Vasia likes to pick up strays, and they're understandably grateful for it. Much like Harry, none of them really had family. Now Vasia's put herself in a position that gave Harry her loyalty. Because they have a great deal of faith in her, they're willing to do the same.

There's also the fact that Vasia has no interest in binding them and, as noted, that's really the only way to get some of the most important benefits.

Plus, they're technically _actual_ family now, and have the paperwork to prove it.

Anyway, next chapter sharks will jump into fridges and be nuked by a tap dancing squirrel.

Oh, and one final note. I'm working on Unheroic too, so there might be a little longer delay than normal. It depends on which story I feel the inspiration for. Either way, if chapter 2 of Unheroic isn't done yet, I'll probably focus on that for a bit after next chapter of this.

Sorry these are so disorganized and random. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I don't really edit author's notes after I write them. I like them to be a little chunk of may train of thought.

So, see you next chapter.


	24. The Mega-Mini-Chapter

Something Familiar

Chapter 24: "The Mega-Mini-Chapter"

AKA: "The Devil's Greatest Trick"

* * *

Cho ran by their table, screaming bloody murder. The Ravenclaw's robes had been torn into ragged tatters that barely managed to cover her. A set of spikes fastened to her shoes gave her purchase on the ice, though she was still considerably hampered in her attempt to run. A group of narwhals skated by, hot on her heels. The strips of cloth hanging loosely from their mouths gave a pretty strong clue as to what had happened to Cho's clothing.

A pewter serving platter sailed through the air like a frisbee and slammed into her shins with a cringeworthy crack. The witch immediately went down with a gasp of pain. A moment later there was a panicked scream as she was dogpiled by narwhals.

(Narwhalpiled?)

"You do know that when I said, 'I'm sick of listening to her. Maybe we should do something,' I was talking about helping her, right?" George asked. "Feeding her to the narwhals wasn't really what I had in mind."

Hermione hopped off the table and retook her chair. "Eh, she'll be fine. Those things aren't nearly as good at biting people as they are at figure skating. Besides, that was easier."

"She's right, that was easier," Fred agreed. "Not nearly as fun as watching her run around, though. You think she knows she has a mole there?"

"Probably not," Hermione said. "That's not really a place you look regularly."

" _I'd_ look there regularly."

"Of course you would, Fred."

George chuckled as he carefully dissected his chunk of mystery meat. There was a faint squirting noise each time he pressed his knife into it, allowing various colored fluids to dribble out. Despite the lack of a mouth, the hunk of protein squealed slightly each time. "So, aside from that chick's moles, we've got a couple of things to worry about right now. There's a couple minor problems going on here, and I'm not talking about the _very_ minor one Fred solved three times yesterday."

"You remember you're identical, right? Like, _identical_ ," Hermione giggled.

"Shit."

King watched his lunch try to slowly crawl off his plate. The meat was making a pretty good go of it, flexing and squirming like a caterpillar and slowly wiggling away. "The first problem would be that Red has successfully unleashed a horde of carnivorous monodons in the school," King declared. He slammed his fist down on the escaping meat, splintering the table and shaking the floor. The entree popped back into shape as soon as he removed his fist, then grew insect legs and fled. King watched it go, then sighed and dragged a serving platter over to cut off another hunk. "Said monodons are skilled skaters, highly intelligent and coordinated enough to cooperatively prevent anyone from leaving the hall."

"Eighty-seven was a little overkill, brother."

"Maybe," Fred admitted. "I'm still wondering what happened to the other thirteen. Do you think they got lost or something?"

George gave him the "you idiot" look. "Fred, somehow I don't think they go far when they're in those little pill things. You probably just lost them."

"Good job, Fred. Way to lose an endangered species," Hermione chided. "Why don't you go beat some manatees with a sledgehammer next."

"Yeah, about that. Why the hell are these things endangered? I have a real hard time believing they drop dead easy. They're kinda scary."

The small group watched with interest as a student tried to escape through the south entrance, only to be tail-slapped back towards the tables by one of the narwhals stationed there. The pair of beasts watched the wizard slide back and slam into an iced-over chair. Hermione could swear there was an amused look on their faces.

"Yeah, I was noticing that. Are these things supposed to be that smart?" Hermione inquired.

George winced as a spurt of fluid flew from his mystery meat, splattering across his face. It instantly congealed into a slimey drip hanging from his cheek. "They're smart enough to capture sandsharks and feet 'em to their buddies."

There was an exasperated sigh as King's newest hunk of meat flew away on a pair of butterfly wings, a pair of insect wings and a single white bird wing.

"The second problem we are facing is the fact that I am beginning to wonder how well-suited our professors are to their positions," King confided as he began hacking another piece off.

"Hey, it's not their fault. Assorted breakfast toppings are clearly a wizard's greatest weakness," Hermione defended their faculty.

George sighed. "Assorted breakfast toppings are _not_ our greatest weakness."

"Yes they are."

"No they're not."

Hermione waved a meat-laden fork towards their teachers, causing the foodstuff to squeal in terror. "Our professors beg to differ. Either toppings are kryptonite, or they're to incompetent to defend themselves from a volley of jelly. I honestly have no idea which is worse," she admitted, biting down on the mystery morsel. It let out one final pained shriek as her teeth came down on it. "I love the ones that scream."

Fred scooted away from her, giving his friends a nervous look. "King? Can you toss George so I can sit by you? She's starting to scare me…"

"You're scared of a little firstie witch half your size? Don't be a pussy, brother."

"So you don't mind sitting here?"

"..."

"Thought so."

"Oh, for god's sake," Hermione sighed. She hopped up on the table and looked down at George. The older boy froze as she fixed him with her gaze. "Move."

The redhead immediately hopped out of his chair and scrambled under the table, popping up beside his brother. He looked around quickly, then casually slung himself into Hermione's vacated seat. "So, what's up Fred? Nice weather on this side."

"Pussy."

There was a scrape as Hermione shoved George's plate across the table. The meat on it wobbled like jelly and, defying all logic, continued to wobble long after the plate had stopped. "You're _both_ wusses. It's enough to make a lovely young lady feel self-conscious. I don't scare King."

"..."

Hermione cleared her throat and repeated, "I don't scare King, right?"

"Of course not. It would be foolish to be frightened by such a lovely girl," King said quickly.

"Dude, she can't even hurt you," Fred pointed out.

George hummed as he looked across the table. "You know, I think we might just be a bad influence after all."

"You are. I used to be such a nice girl!" Hermione exclaimed. "Now look at me. Look at what you've done to me!"

Fred snorted and chuckled, "You were a _nice girl_?"

"Well, to be honest, I probably wasn't. I was stealing clothing and setting things on fire three days after I met some people that were okay with that," Hermione mused. "That sort of thing doesn't just pop up overnight, you know. Not usually, at least."

"See George? We bring out the best in people!" Fred said happily.

Frowning, George stared across the hall. "Don't think our professors benefit from that. Shouldn't they have broken out by now? I'm seriously starting to wonder if they should really be teaching us."

"You're _starting_ to wonder? Sorry, you've been to DADA class, right? Quirrell is pathetic," Hermione scoffed. "A pen fell of his desk the other day, and I swear he almost baked some brownies right there in class. That guy is supposed to be teaching us to defend ourselves?"

"This is a bit too much, isn't it? That's seriously all it takes to take them out?"

"Well, to be fair, assorted breakfast toppings are clearly a wizard's greatest weakness," Hermione stated. "Getting upset about this is like being surprised Fred collapses when I kick him in the bollocks."

Fred nodded in agreement. "That _is_ my greatest weakness. The dreaded bag-tag is super effective."

"Assorted breakfast toppings are _not_ super effective against wizards, Mio."

Pointing at the frozen staff members, Hermione said, "I know at least twelve people that'd disagree."

"That is rather odd. Furthermore, is it not a bit odd that no one has bothered to free them?" King inquired. "They have been there since breakfast. Somehow I doubt it is a comfortable position to be in."

Hermione shrugged and continued smacking her mystery meat with her fork. The blob of alleged meat changed color slightly with every smack. "Who do you figure is supposed to free them? Hey, has anyone seen it do this before? I'm pretty sure I haven't…"

"Mystery meat changes color on days the digits of the temperature outside add up to a prime number," Fred said. "Usually you have to hit it with a spoon, though. Never seen it work with a fork before."

"Mio's right, though. Only three adults didn't get jelly-locked and-"

Hermione broke in, "Four if you count Hagrid. He busted out in less than five minutes. I guess being able to bend steel rods in your bare hands trumps magic when it comes to wizard kryptonite. And Dumbledore didn't actually escape it. "

"Fine. Four," George corrected. "Anyway, our illustrious headmaster decided that whatever the hell he's doing is more important than whatever the hell is happening here. Kind of a dick move to leave everyone else in their fruit-flavored prisons."

Fred added, "Hagrid left 'em hangin too. Either that, or it takes him seven hours to change his suit."

"Can't really fault him on that, though. You've seen how most of them look at him. Living like a muggle after his magic was sealed? The scandal!" Hermione gasped. "Clearly he should have been a bitter jackass like Filch instead of going off with someone that treated him well."

"McGonagall's kind of a tough call. She seems to be enjoying it more than anything. That's kind of weird. I figured she'd be all over mopping this up," George declared.

"Technically no rules are being broken."

"...releasing flesh-eating narwhals into the school doesn't break any rules?" George asked, eyeing her skeptically.

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. The only thing you can't bring into the school is a Canadian Bonesucker Moose. Oh, and butterflies aren't allowed in the south corridor."

"Why can't you bring in a Bonesucker Moose?" Fred asked.

"Because they eat bones, Fred. They suck them right out from under your skin," Hermione replied. "You realize the butterflies were the weird part, right?"

Fred shuddered. "No, that one's a good call. They're _butterflies_ , man. You never know what might be running through their tiny little heads."

"You're seriously saying I could bring a… a… rabid wildebeest and set it loose, and I wouldn't be breaking any rules!?" George demanded.

"Not unless it was wearing a fez. Putting a fez on a wildebeest is a very serious offense."

"..."

"The narwhals aren't breaking any rules, either. There's nothing saying a wild animal can't chase around students and rip up their clothes. Even getting buried under a narwhal orgy is acceptable," Hermione continued. "You'll note that Professor McGonagall is blasting them if they look like they're actually going to hurt someone. That _is_ against the rules, unless it's the third Tuesday of the month."

Fred rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess we're lucky the narwhals aren't nearly as good at biting things as they are at figure skating. It makes an awful mess when she splats them, and I bet it's hard to get narwhal outta your robes."  
"There is also the fact that monodon successfully biting you would result in an injury that would be both painful and serious."

"Don't be a pussy, King. They can't even hurt you," Fred chided him.

"Why do you persist in believing that something being too fragile to harm me means that caution is unwarranted."

A silver fork screamed in protest as it slammed down onto the back of King's hand. The tines immediately bent and deformed against his skin. The three wizards fixed Hermione with shocked looks as she withdrew the implement, tossed it aside and immediately replaced it.

Fred and George, though on the other side of the table, quite obviously scooted their chairs back away from her. "Jesus. I know we all know that wouldn't hurt him, but… damn," George whispered.

"Is there anything that _isn't_ too fragile to hurt you, King?" she asked.

The boy stared down at his unmarked hand with a thoughtful look on his face. "I do believe I received a papercut once. It was most unpleasant."

Hermione winced. "A papercut, of all things. You might want to just drive a rusty nail through your hand if you feel like getting hurt."

"Or you could try getting gang-beaten by an elite force of narwhal combat ninjas," Fred offered. "I'm thinking Snape isn't gonna be busting anyone loose anytime soon."

Across the hall, the greasy bastard staggered to his feet. He wavered unsteadily, nearly loosing his footing on the ice. The moment he steadied himself, he whipped around and launched a pair of spells.

A speeding narwhal tucked low and cut a tight S shape across the ice. It easily evaded the spells, shooting through them as if they were nothing more than flagpoles at a race. Even as they chewed ragged gashes in the ice behind it, it scrunched itself down and passed under a third. It was on Snape almost immediately, not giving him a chance to cast a fourth spell.

An ice skate dug deep into the frosty floor. The motion brought the narwhal up short, sending its tail screaming around in a circle. The large flipper slammed straight into the professor's shins. It was a lot like getting hit with a sledgehammer, assuming the sledgehammer weighed just over a ton and was going eighty miles-per-hour.

Snape didn't even get to exclaim in pain as his feet were knocked out from under him. The blow was so fierce that it sent him heels over head in a fraction of a second. The narwhal released its grip on the ice and continued to slide by under him. A second beast passed over it as it flew through the air to intercept the flying teacher. It torqued its body around and brought its tail down on him.

The ice cracked and shattered as he slammed into it face-first.

"I really like how they keep letting him get up and cast a few spells," Hermione said.

Giving the narwhals a respectful salute, george agreed, "Yeah, keeps him thinking he has a chance. There's some real artistry there."

"I swear I can hear his hope shattering piece by piece, even all the way over here. It's beautiful," Hermione announced in an awed tone, her eyes shining with wonder and joy.

Fred and George scooted a little further away.

"Seriously, though. How long is it going to take for someone to melt themselves out? This is starting to get really sad. Maybe we should do it for them.:"

"Yeah, you don't wanna do that," George advised. "Like, you _really_ don't want to do that."

Hermione considered the frozen professors carefully. "There's Firehole Gelly in there, isn't there?"

"Yeah there is. A shit-ton," George said cheerfully. He didn't realize his mistake until Fred and King both shot him panicked looks. "Uh, wait! My mistake! That was mom's preserves. It's an easy mistake to make, considering that they both burn coming out."

"Mio… turning our professors into incendiary devices would most likely be an extremely ill-advised act," King cautioned.

"Technically George and Harry turned them into human fireworks. It's hardly my fault if someone- Thing! If some _thing_ ignites them."

"I think you're probably responsible for every fire within a quarter mile by default," George pointed out.

"That's slander! Terrible, untrue accusations! If you rate both intensity and burn time on a one to ten scale and multiply, Harry's responsible for 87% of all fires that occurred since we started school," Hermione huffed.

"Uh-huh. And what if you just count the number of times someone got 'accidentally' set on fire? How many of _those_ are you responsible for?"

Sliding her wand out of her sleeve, Hermione smiled at George. "Well, it's about to be 62%..."

"Question withdrawn," he quickly said, raising his hands in surrender.

"I feel like I should not have to point this out, but the staff falls under the 'no maiming' rule as well," King pointed out. "Should the fire do serious harm, you may very well be out of the running."

Hermione gave him a blank look.

George shook his head and clarified, "Fire hurts people, Mio…"

"What? No it doesn't."

"Of course it does. It does all the time. I bet there's someone getting hurt by it right- Don't aim that at me!" Fred shrieked, ducking under the table.

George slowly pushed Hermione's wand down. "That wasn't a challenge or an invitation. You should only set Fred on fire when he deserves it."

"Fine. But you're wrong. _People_ hurt people, not fire. If fire hurts you, clearly you were using it wrong," Hermione sniffed.

"Or, you know, one of your friends is a pyromaniac psychopath," a familiar voice came from beneath George's feet.

"I'm afraid you are incorrect. Mio would be classified as a sociopath at worst, not a psychopath," King corrected. "She definitely shows empathy and concern for _us_ , though little for anyone else."

"Don't feel bad. A lot of people get that wrong," Hermione added.

"Normally you'd deny that."

"I like to think I'm pretty self-aware," Hermione smiled sweetly and gestured around the table. "And I'm pretty sure that King's the only one here that doesn't qualify to some degree, Mr. Feed-the-first-years-experimental-potions."

"Ooh, everyone loves hyphens!" Fred proclaimed.

"Hey, those were all harmless. Well, except for the one that gave people acidic diarrhea. That wasn't harmless, but the burns were pretty minor and Madam Pomfrey fixed them right up."

"There was the one that made people's eyes fall out!" Fred added.

"You made people's eyes fall out!?"

There was a muffled ouch as George kicked his brother. "Merlin, Fred. Don't exaggerate. It didn't make people's eyes fall out. It made people's _eye_ fall out. Usually the left one."

"There's Lord Nev. He's not a psychopath. Sorry, sociopath."

Hermione stared at George in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Have you _seen_ how he looks at people sometimes? Not to mention I have a hard time believing someone sane could summon a village-devouring death plant."

"She's got a point. A couple've times I've been pretty sure he was about to feed someone to Flower."

"Well, as long as they deserve it and no one sees it. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't leave much in the way of evidence," Hermione declared, shrugging. "You know you can come out, right Fred? I pro- I won't set you on fire."

"I think I'll stay down here, thanks."

"Despite my misgivings about your actions, you _do_ act with some degree of restraint where others are concern. I have yet to see you do anything that had a high probability of seriously injuring someone. I doubt any of you could be considered truly sociopathic," King said.

George gave him a disbelieving look. "King. Buddy. Do you pay _any_ attention to what we do? We seriously injure people all the time."

"Are you really making an argument _for_ us being sociopaths?"

"Well, we did send Drico to the Hospital Wing three times last week."

"Draco."

"Whatever." Hermione poked at her meat idly, composing a simple tune from its various shrieks and squeals. "I'm pretty sure putting the bludger charms on a bag of marbles counts as causing harm."

"Who would've thought smaller projectiles would be _more_ dangerous?"

"Fred, when he spelled them to aim for the bollocks," Hermione replied blandly, drawing a giggle from the offender. "Not funny. One of those things almost took my head off."

"How was I supposed to know they'd default to _eye_ balls if they couldn't find the other ones?"

"The sandpaper charmed to trick people into thinking it was toiletpaper sent thirty-seven people to the Hospital Wing, including Fred."

"I forgot, okay! Let it go already."

"Like you forgot which stairs we covered in Sticking Solution?" Hermione giggled.

"...you pushed me."

A look of realization bloom on her face. "Oh yeah! I remember doing that!"

"No one pushed you into Nev's attraction array. I've never seen someone hit a ceiling so hard."

"I'm still a little upset it took them four days to figure out the repulsion array on the floor was a fake. Shouldn't that take a well-educated adult wizard about five minutes?"

"Well, Vector was still refusing to leave his quarters."

"Every dog in the castle was after him after he got nailed with the Instant Boner Potion you messed up. You saved that recipe, right?"

"Duh. We'll have to figure out if we can get it to affect cats, too."

George thought for a moment, then asked, "You think it works on narwhals?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione replied. She withdrew a glass tube from her robes and hurled it across the hall. There was a just barely audible tinkle of broken glass, then a _very_ audible scream of horror and pain. "Snape says it does."

"You've gotta appreciate someone who takes one for the pursuit of knowledge."

"Brother, there's something wrong with your eyes. That was six."

"Do I even want to know why you still had some of that?" George asked warily.

Hermione pointed at Fred. "It was for the next time he pissed me off."

"And you still have it a week later? You've got some impressive self-restraint."

"I, for one, am a bit disturbed by the fact that we have yet to receive as much as an official rebuke for your actions. Is there no discipline here?" King inquired.

Fred, George and Hermione all started giggling.

"King, buddy… You do go to the same school as us, right?" Fred asked. "Because if you really need to ask that, I'm pretty sure you've been in some kind of alternate dimension."

"You don't give a bunch of kids magic sticks that can set things on fire and expect to be able to discipline them. The students here could probably take over the whole school in about five minutes if they wanted to," Hermione pointed out. "'Competent' adult wizards or not, there's a lot more of us than there is of them."

George shrugged. "We don't really _have_ to take over the school. We pretty much already did."

"...what?"

"Well, about getting away with way too much… It turns out that everyone's too afraid of us to rat us out. An awful lot of people around here just happen to be 'looking in the other direction' when something goes down. I heard Snape whining to McGonagall about it the other day. Turns out Mio was right. They _can't_ punish us just because they're pretty sure we did something."

Hermione looked at him with a put-out expression on her face. "Of course I was right. But you'd think someone would at least _try_ to do something. Professor McGonagall hasn't even talked to us about it, even though she must at least suspect us. And now she's just watching a coworker get molested by narwhals. It doesn't seem very responsible."

"Well, it is Snape," Fred pointed out.

"And weren't you considering setting a bunch of people on fire just because they'd burn just a second ago?" George asked. "I'm pretty sure you don't get to use the 'R' word anymore."

Hermione giggled. "I don't have to be responsible. I took over a school. Evil dictators can do whatever they want."

"I don't know about dictators. That seems a little extreme," George protested. "We just engulfed the school in a reign of terror that scared everyone so bad that they don't dare oppose us."

"Right. You _do_ know what a dictator is, don't you?"

"I don't know. I kind of think that's something you do on purpose," Fred stated. "Can you even become an evil dictator on accident?"

Hermione slammed a goblet down on a bite of meat that was trying to bounce away. "I'm leaning pretty heavily towards 'yes' at the moment," she said, rattling the cup around and giggling at the noises the rogue lump of protein made. "I can't say I ever wanted to be an evil dictator, but I'd be lying if I said the thought doesn't make me feel warm inside."

Fred and George scooted even further away.

"I do not believe the term ' _evil_ dictator is quite correct here. You have done little more than inconvenience people, and had no ill intentions while doing so," King protested.

"I think it's hard to release carnivorous creatures into a school without ill intentions, King."

"And it _definitely_ doesn't count as an inconvenience," Hermione added.

Fred gave them an affronted look. "What? I didn't have any bad intentions! I just wanted to scare the hell out of people, screw up the school bad enough to get classes canceled and maybe see someone get chewed on a bit!"

"Fred, those are _all_ bad."

"Oh."

"Still, King's right. I don't think we're full-blown evil. We just have no consideration for others and no problem with harming them a little for the sake of our own amusement. Sometimes maybe harming them a lot."

"We're not hurting anyone!"

Snape shot by behind them with a panicked look on his face. His robes were torn and shredded, he had several obvious abrasions and his gait was a bit off. His new narwhal "friends" were right behind them, a rather prominent portion of their anatomy dragging on the ice.

"That's Snape. It doesn't count."

"Obviously."

King observed the ongoing narwhal-on-wizard action. "While certainly unpleasant, Professor Snape's situation could be quite a bit worse. He is quite lucky to be assaulted by a group of monodons that have not evolved spears."

Fred giggled. "Maybe you've been solving your problem too much, King, 'cuz I think you're blind. They _already_ had spears. I can see how you'd miss it, what with them being right in the middle of their faces and all."  
A skating narwhal barrelled past, chasing a pair of young Hufflepuffs. It gripped, in its mouth, a long spear with a wood shaft and nasty, broadhead point. The tip gouged a trail in the ice as it dragged across it. Just when it looked like the beast would catch its prey, the end of its weapon caught a chair. It was immediately yanked out of the narwhal's mouth, sending the creature spinning and sliding into a bunch of chairs.

The beast quickly reclaimed its spear, gave them an embarrassed look and skated away.

"Oh~, that kind of spear!"

"This does not strike me as a very efficient route of development," King declared. "Evolving spears appears to be more detrimental than anything."

Hermione groaned in exasperation. "You guys _do_ realize they didn't' evolve those, right? That doesn't even make sense. They probably just stole them from some suits of armor or something."

" _That_ doesn't even make sense. There's not even any armor in here," George pointed out.

There was a faint scrape of stone on stone behind him. Frowning, he turned just in time to watch an entrance to the familiar tunnels grind open. A particularly fat pug came trotting out an looked back at him. After a moment it gave a canine shrug, turned and began tugging a spiked mace out of the darkness. It took several seconds - as the mace as probably nearly as heavy as the dog - but it finally pulled the weapon out onto the ice. Giving George a final look, it vanished back into the wall.

A moment later a narwhal slid by and snatched the spiked bludgeon up in its mouth.

"The animal revolution has begun," Fred whispered in horror.

"Well, I guess that settles that," George said reluctantly. "Mio's right. They came from the suits of armor."

Hermione protested, "But that doesn't actually explain _anything_."

"Sure it does. The familiars are obviously stealing weapons from the suits of armor and using them to arm the ice-skating, flesh-eating, ninja narwhals. You were right," George reluctantly admitted.

"But _why_!?"

King gave her a mildly disappointed look. "That is obvious, is it not? There is only one person in the castle that can command the furred hordes well enough to accomplish this. I believe she also knew exactly what Red was doing."

"Yeah. Actually, she did. And she seemed pretty upset when I explained what a narwhal was," Fred agreed. "She started muttering about how everything in this world did a half-assed job of it, or something."

"Arming a dangerous creature sounds exactly like something Angel would think is a good idea, but why are the narwhals actually _using_ them?" Hermione demanded insistently. "Why on Earth would a narwhal use a spear?"

George nodded in agreement. His eyes were fixed on a point slightly higher than her shoulder. "You've got a point. They're a lot better with broadswords."

"Look, is this something you could just sum up for us? I don't dare turn around while my mystery meat is eyeing my parfait like that. If it runs off with another one, I'll be very upset," Hermione muttered, giving her lunch a dark look. "I'd threaten to cook you alive, but I'm not entirely sure whether or not you _are_ alive and the last piece I tried that on went off like a hand grenade."

"Please do not converse with your lunch. It is somewhat disturbing, and it makes me feel rather guilty for attempting to pacify mine," King stated. He brought an extra plate down hard enough to bend the metal. The moment he removed it, his mystery meat grew a tail, some extra eyes and three mismatched sets of feelers. With a squeal, it flopped off the table and onto the floor. "This is most vexing."

George shrugged as he continued trying to stab his meal with a fork. The questionable animal product kept opening holes in itself, neatly evading the tines. "It's not a big deal. There's some kind of three-way narwhal deathmatch going on over there. Does anyone actually know what this stuff is? I'm not entirely sure we should be eating it."  
"You've been eating it for two years and you're fine," Hermione pointed out.

"She's right!" Fred agreed. "Mystery meat is delicious and nutritious! Aren't you mystery meat? Who's the deliciousest and most nutritiousest? You are!" Fred declared, tickling his food. The lump of magical protein gurgled slightly and leaned into his hand, purring. The purr immediately turned into a shriek of pain as Fred's fork slammed down on it. "Ha! Let your guard down, bee-yatch!"

There was another scream as the entire lump of meat vanished into his mouth.

"See? You guys are perfectly fine, so there's nothing wrong with mystery meat at all."

George thought for a moment, then went back to trying to stab his food. "Seems like sound logic to me."

"Hey, do you think narwhals like mystery meat?" Fred suddenly asked. "Most of them are trying pretty hard to eat people. I bet they're hungry. Do you think I should try feeding the ones over there after they're done trying to kill each other? That's got to work up and appetite."

"Don't do that, Fred. It _can't_ be good for them."

George stared at her. "You just said-"

"Oh, don't be a baby. Mystery meat is fun, and we only get it once a week. Enjoy it!" Hermione proclaimed. "It's not every day you get to eat something that fights back."

"I would be most pleased if it was slightly less enthusiastic in its attempts to escape," King muttered, watching his latest piece roll off his plate on boney, wheel-like protrusions.

Hermione turned to look down at the fleeing food.

" _Don't_."

The meat instantly froze, shuddered and reversed back onto King's plate, carefully positioning itself under his hand. There was a series of pops as it ejected its wheels violently. Fred let out a strangled shout of pain and shock as one went straight into his open mouth, causing him to keel over coughing and choking.

"Yeah. I'm wondering if I might be safer with the narwhals. Maybe I'll go get in on the deathmatch. Murderous ninja sea life is probably safer than sitting at this table…" George said quietly.

King lifted his food and frowned as it clung to his fingers with a dozen suckers. There was a rather unpleasant sound as he forcibly removed it with his other hand. "I highly doubt it is an actual deathmatch. It seems much more likely that they are competing for the coveted position of alpha narwhal."

"Maybe… they just wanna… see who has the biggest… sword…" Fred gasped.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Fred," Hermione said in exasperation.

A dainty foot slammed into the Weasley's shin, causing him to gasp in pain and sit bolt upright. An instant later a heavy pewter goblet slammed into his exposed chest. There was a massive outrushing of air, sufficient to dislodge the bone wheel. It bounced across the table and spun to a stop by Hermione's plate.

"At least make sure you're not going to choke to death before you waste air on being an idiot," she ordered.

George giggled as a speeding narwhal chased another student by. "And their swords are plenty big, brother. It's amazing they don't trim them down skating around like that."

Hermione watched the beasts skate around with a thoughtful look on her face. "I thought those things were supposed to be inside them."

"...what?"

"Narwhals. They keep their problems inside. They're a lot like emotionally-repressed teenagers, except with less problems and more _problems._ "

"You just made that up."

Hermione tried to glare under the table without pausing in her destruction of a strawberry parfait. "I did not!" she hissed. "They have a… little pocket or something? Now that I think about it, I really don't know…"

"Must be a _big_ pocket," George giggled.

"What? No, not that. The bit about repressed teenagers. That's not actually a thing, right? Don't we just do whatever the hell we feel like doing? I mean… what's the point of not doing something because it'll upset someone or embarrass you?" George asked. He turned to grin at his brother and continued, "Granted, there's some pussies that're too scared to talk to a witch that obviously has the hots-"

A foot impacted his shin, quickly followed by a goblet to the face.

"I wasn't choking!" he gasped in protest.

"You could be," Hermione said sweetly. "That's off limits until someone gets a clue. Honestly, I'm only twelve, and _I_ spotted it with no problem."

The three boys looked at her with befuddled expressions.

"Twelve?" George asked. "I thought you were eleven."

"I got older, George. I here that's something that happens to a lot of people."

Fred frowned and asked, "When the hell did this happen?"

"The third week of September, just like it normally does. Funny that. I think I'm beginning to spot a pattern."

"Mio, did you seriously not- Oh! Shit!"

George winced. "Yeah. Ouch. Wait, what the hell?"

"What?"

"A narwhal just took a mace to his head," George explained. "It broke."

Hermione snorted. "Yeah, I hear that happens when someone hits you with ten pounds of spiked steel."

"No, Mio, the _mace_ broke. Does that actually happen? Are narwhals normally mace-proof?"

Considering for a moment, Hermione replied, "They might be, actually. I've never heard of someone testing that theory. It's not really normal to walk up to an animal and say, 'Gee, I wonder what'll happen if I hit it with this mace,' you know."

"Maybe someone _did_ test it, and you just don't know about it. I'm getting a definite feeling that slamming a bludgeon into a narwhal's face wouldn't end well," Fred muttered. "Damn. No wonder these things are such a menace."

"You might want to consider the consequences _before_ turning a horde of animals loose."

"Yeah, because not asking how they react to being slugged with a pointy ball was a serious oversight on my part. My bad, guys. My bad."

Hermione opened her mouth to unleash what was certainly a devastating and witty retort, but a deafening boom rocked the hall before she could. The frame around the widened, owl-killing window exploded inward, showering the hall with large chunks of stone. Students and narwhals alike screamed in panic. Both sides wordlessly agreed to a temporary truce as they took cover under their tables.

Hermione, still seated in her chair, calmly continued eating her parfait as stones broke across the surface of their table. She hadn't even bothered to move as the earthen rain came down, instead opting to snatch up her treat and duck slightly as King hefted the heavy furniture into the air. Not a single bit of gravel touched her or the twins as their friend held it up like an oversized shield.

"Thank you, King," she said as he slammed it back down to the ground.

"It was my pleasure," King demurred. Fred barely had enough time to scramble back into his chair before he slammed the table back down.

"I was almost a Fred-flavored pancake," he whispered quietly. "With a lovely blood and shattered bone topping."

George stared at her. "You know, normally you'd at least acknowledge the fact that head-sized rocks are flying toward your face…"

"Why bother?" Hermione replied with a shrug. "I knew King wouldn't let anything hit me, so freaking out about it would be a waste of time."

King was absolutely beaming in response to her comment.

"Can he protect us from mail owls, too?" George asked, pointing at the small horde of birds coming through the hall's new entrance. "'Cuz if those things are looking for revenge, we're kinda screwed."

"Where the hell are Kitten and Flower when you need them?"

Hermione sighed. "Don't freak out over a dozen owls. What the heck are that going to… do…?" She slowly petered out as she watched twelve owls haul a box that was easily larger on every side than she was tall. "King? Should we transfigure a giant flyswatter, or is the table decent anti-owl weaponry?"

Luckily, they ended up not needing to test the tables effectiveness against rogue avians. The birds didn't so much as glance at them as they passed overhead on their way towards the staff table. Stopping in the clear space between student and staff seating, the dropped the massive crate amongst the frozen professors. The crate hit a hard enough to shake the ground, knocking several unfortunate witches and wizards over. Despite the impact they remained locked in their flavorful prisons.

The owls quickly scattered and headed for the newly-enlarged window.

"Well, that wasn't so-"

A narwhal shot into the air, spinning gracefully as it flew overhead. There was a surprised squawk as a passing owl was neatly skewered by its horn. It landed on their other side and paused. The light slowly faded from the owl's eyes, and was gone completely by the time the narwhal flipped it into the air and caught it between jagged teeth.

 _Destruction of Mail Order Incorporated property is prohibited. Offender is neither human nor high-value life form: confirmed. Self-defense mode activated: lethal._

More mail owls poured through the window, a few dozen or more in number. They immediately broke formation to fly in groups of three. The smaller units immediately began making runs on the skating sea creatures, quickly diving and tearing at them with sharp talons and swooping back up towards the ceiling. In response, more narwhals began leaping up, trying to shank the birds with their horns or tail-slap them into the ground.

In the space of a few moments a brutal aerial battle broke out.

The other three students fixed George with accusing stares.

"Okay, there's no way in hell that was my fault."

"Of course not," Hermione said sarcastically. "You know, turning a school into an enraged animal warzone seems a lot like something an evil dictator would do."

"Really? Again? I'm really not sold on the 'evil dictator' thing."

"Fine. In the space of two months we've terrorized the student population into compliance with repeated aggressive and violent acts. That makes us _violent_ dictators. Happy?"

"I can live with that."

Fred frowned down at his mystery meat and asked, "So, is a violent dictator better or worse than an evil dictator?"

"I guess it depends on which side of the dictatoring you're on."

"We're on the side with all the fire and pointy bits."

"Better, then."

George sighed. "Look, can we talk about something else? Like the box, maybe? You guys do remember the box, right?"

"What about it?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know… maybe something along the lines of 'why the hell is there a giant box in the Great Hall?"

Hermione shrugged. "Why? It's obviously either Harry's or Nev's. Probably Harry's, since it's really not Neville's style. Either way, we'll find out as soon as Ron pulls the cord that's pretty much labeled 'this is a trap,' won't we?"

Indeed, a thick cord was hanging from one corner of the box. It ran up the side and merged with the mess of chains holding it shut. Ending about halfway down the crate, it terminated in a metal ring. A small sign that read "pull me" was suspended from said ring by a string.

"What makes you figure Ron's gonna do it?"

"..."

"Yeah, sorry. I realized how dumb that question was as soon as it left my mouth."

Fred examined the small crowd gathering around the box despite the beastial brawl going on around them. It seemed that several students had decided they were safe now that the narwhals were otherwise occupied.

"So, should we take cover under the table before or after our idiot brother opens that?" he inquired.

"Haven't you had _enough_ -" Hermione slammed her fork down, pinning King's escaping food. "-under the table time for now? Besides, we won't be able to see what happens from under there."

"Both good points."

The curious students cautiously approached the box. The words "To Hogwarts with love" were burned into the side in large block print. The smaller "pull me" sign dangled enticingly, swaying slightly as the animal riot disturbed the air.

Still seated at the end of her house's table, McGonagall arched an eyebrow as she looked the crate over. Her eyes, most likely among the sharpest in the hall, easily picked out a familiar logo.

"Oh dear. This should be interesting," she declared.

"Shouldn't we be doing something about it?" Flitwick asked from his seat beside her.

Turning, she stared down at the diminutive man. "I see you're as light on your feet as ever. I had assumed you were in a blueberry-flavored shell."

Flitwick snorted. "Please. They're called hardening _charms_ , Minerva. They actually did me a favor. Since the sludge was hardened, it was quite easy to leave it all behind when I slipped out. I didn't even have to use a cleaning charm on my robes," he declared. "No, I was trying to track down the last of the pumpkin sandwiches. Did you know they only serve them at the end of October? It's a travesty."  
"Your taste is… very questionable. Shouldn't you be with your Ravens?"

"There's less jelly over here," he said with a shrug. Raising a hand, he watched as small river of liquid silver ran up his arm. A pool quickly gathered in his hand and formed a knife. "Thank you, Tel'daar. You're as useful as ever."  
The metal took on a slightly rosy hue.

"So, are we preventing whatever is about to happen? I'd like to know how quickly I should eat this."

McGonagall shook her head. "I think not. I see no rules that have been broken, and I doubt the culprit would endanger their peers. Not too badly, anyway."

"Mff. Sho you know whooh it ish?" Flitwick asked through a mouthful of orangeish matter.

"Swallow, Filius. I do have strong suspicions as to the identity of the perpetrator, but nothing concrete enough to punish them."

There was an amused look on Flitwick's face as he examined her. "So it's like that, is it?"

"It is indeed."

"Well, _I'm_ certainly not about to do anything. Wouldn't want my classroom to start 'mysteriously' burning down."

The comment earned him a smile. "You should have been a Breaker, Filius. You're far too good for the dueling circuit," McGonagall declared. "I thought it was a bit odd that you began teaching your first-year students about detection charms right before the mysterious culprits evaded several of said charms and burned down the fourth classroom."

"A wise man knows when it is better to let others do the work for him. 'Always' is generally the answer to that. And I'm afraid I don't have the stomach for your line of work."

"It's too bad," McGonagall said regretfully. A few narwhals and owls had joined the curious crowd. Apparently a few members of each side had declared a temporary truce, striking an uneasy peace between humans, narwhals and owls. "Shall we make a wager? I'll stake two sickles on Ronald Weasley."

Filius snorted, then immediately started coughing as a chunk of pumpkin went up his nose. "D- do I look like a fool to you, Minerva?" he asked. "That's a sucker's bet if I ever heard one."

Indeed, it was Ron who finally stepped forward, reaching for the ring.

"Ron, I don't know if you should do that," Dean said quickly.

Ron rolled his eyes and gave his friend an annoyed look. "It say 'pull me' right here, Dean. We're _supposed_ to pull it."

"You shouldn't do something just because a sign tells you to. Didn't you figure that out after the third time someone put a 'piss here' sign over that urinal? It almost bit your boys off!"

"That was different, Dean. That was a 'piss here' sign. This is a 'pull me' sign. They're two totally different things. Are you dumb or something?" Ron sighed. "Scabbers thinks it's a good idea, don't you Scabbers?"

The rat stared at him, then chittered and leaped off his shoulder. He landed on the narwhal one wizard over with a soft thump. The beast quickly turned and beat feet. Beat flippers. Beat skates? Well, it beat something, anyway, quickly vacating the area.

"Fine. Be that way. When there's… cake? When there's cake in there-"

"The cake is a lie!" someone screamed. It was immediately followed by a pained shrill and the sound of a body hitting the ice.

"We!" _Thunk._

"Do!" _Thunk._

"Not!" _Thunk._

"Make!" _Thunk._

"That!" _Thunk_.

" _Joke_!" _Thunk._

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just stop hitting me, please!"

"If you _ever_ say that again, I'm feeding you to the narwhals! The same thing's gonna happen if you say the words 'spoon' and 'no' in the same sentence, got it!?"

"Yes!"

"Good! We're better than that. We don't take the low-hanging fruit. _Not ever_."

Ron stared back into the crowd with a confused look on his face. Shrugging it off, he turned back to the box. "You'll all wish you weren't so scared when I have a box full of cake!" he declared, yanking the ring.

There was a series of sharp pops and snaps as the ropes around the package frayed to the point of breaking. With a pained wooden groan, the sides of the box titled away and crashed to the floor. Ron barely had time to jump back before getting flattened.

Flitwick shook his head. " _Now_ should we do something? He almost got turned into a crepe."

"Nonsense, Filius. Haven't you ever heard of evolution?"

"I'm quite certain we shouldn't give him a spear, Minerva. I'm not sure he should even have a wand…"  
Ron's eyes widened as he stared into the crate. There was, needless to say, no cake in there. There was, however, eyes. Tiny, beady little eyes shining in the darkness. Shelves stacked fifteen high, occupied by hundreds, maybe even thousands of eyes.

"Oh," Ron said.

This appeared to be exactly what they were waiting for. Suddenly small, furred forms _poured_ out of the large crate. It was like an unending tidal wave of creatures small and fuzzy. Mice, gerbils, weasels, chipmunks, squirrels, guinea pigs, rats, ferrets and more surged forth, spraying out like they were water in a high-pressure pipe that had given away. On and on it went as the crate disgorged a great many more small mammals than it should reasonably hold.

Ron and the other onlookers were instantly buried under the explosion. All that remained was a single hand sticking up above the fur line. As it slowly sank, Dean's voice screamed, "Tell my mother… I loved her!"

There was a momentary stunned silence as the gathered students fixed their shocked gazes onto the encroaching animals. That silence ended the moment the first of the tiny beasts reached the table. A young girl screamed, instantly prompting others to do the same. The noise only served to spur the animals on, whipping them into a frenzy. Their keen senses clearly warned them away from the narwhal sentries, leaving them with no route to escape. Unable to leave the hall, the furry surge broke into small, whirling mobs of animals. The wads of flailing rodents began randomly bouncing around the hall.

As a large surge of microbeasts rushed towards their table, Hermione turned and looked at them. The animals in front came to a screeching halt, causing a painful-looking pileup behind them. They gazed back at her with their tiny eyes, trembling slightly.

Hermione smiled at them and slid a hand under her robes. "Do it," she said softly.

The pile of fur shuddered again, then shot forward. It parted well before it reached them, rushing by more than an arm's length away.

Fred and George turned to look at each other.

"Brother, I'm kind of scared. Would it be weird if I asked you to hold me?" Fred inquired.

George hastily shook his head. "Only if you didn't hold me back, Fred."

The pair scooted closer and wrapped their arms together, shooting Hermione fearful looks.

"Oh, for god's sake, guys…"

McGonagall's eyes followed the marauding masses of animal. She had a good vantage point from the low stone pillar that had thrust her chair into the air.

"See? Completely harmless. No one's ever drowned in a sea of small mammals. Still, I wonder if there's a rule against this. I'll have to look it up when I get back to my quarters. What would you say, Fillius?" she asked, turning to look at her fellow professor. She had to lean over the side of her chair a bit, but it was pretty easy to see why he hadn't answered. "Oh dear."

The chair Flitwick had occupied was now empty. A half-eaten pumpkin sandwich was lying on the table before it. A large squirrel sniffed at it for a moment, as if deciding whether or not it was food. With a disgusted look on its face, it dove back into the crowd.

"So are you guys done acting like yaoi-fodder, or what?" Hermione asked.

"Hey, that was a perfectly normal manly hug," Fred sniffed disdainfully.

"Yeah, except for the part where you grabbed my ass."

Fred wilted under Hermione and King's disgusted look. "Hey, I was trying to pick your pocket. Harry makes it look so easy!"

"That's because Harry never actually touches anyone," Hermione pointed out as she slammed an empty glass on the table. Looking up and down the hall, she spotted a frightened Hufflepuff crouched on the table with a half-eaten glass of ice-cream in front of her. "That'll do."

Lurching to the side, Hermione drove her arm into a passing wave of mammals, shoving it in up to the elbow before they could react. The beasts immediately jerked away, but not before she managed to snatch one up. As his fellows melted away, Hermione examined the small mouse she was holding by the tail. The small creature immediately froze when it notice it was the subject of her scrutiny.

"Really?" she asked in a disgusted voice. A small flick of her hand sent the mouse spiralling into the air. Before it had even hit the floor, she assaulted a second wad and abducted a particularly large grey squirrel. "You'll work."

"Mio, what're you-"

Hermione hopped onto her chair, reared back and hurled the frightened squirrel with all her might, screaming, "Hey you! _Squirrel_!" It rocketed down the table to slam into the Hufflepuff witch's face just as she turned to look towards the shout. It hit hard enough to send her sprawling onto the table. The frightened projectile immediately latched onto her hair, causing her to scream and start thrashing around. The pair quickly fell of the table and were swallowed by a beast wave.

"I'll be right back," Hermione announced, hopping off her chair.

"Uh, you know you probably could have just walked up and taken it, right?" George queried. "I mean, she was pretty scared to begin with."

"Oh. That would've worked, too. I didn't think of that."

Fred shook his head, slightly pale. "See? That's why I try not to piss her off. You don't piss someone off if their go-to solution is blunt trauma via rodent," he whispered.

George frowned as he watched the first-year leave. The small mammals continued to avoid her as she went, forming a small, icy oasis. "You piss her off all the time, Fred. You'd be lucky if she just used the squirrel," he pointed out. "Hey, something just occured to me. Weren't the fuzzies leaving us alone because Mio scares the shit out of them?"

Fred and George's eyes widened as they watched a wave of mammal rush towards them. They barely had time to scream in shock before it washed across their table. Eventually it subsided, leaving King in his chair, holding his plate above his head with one hand and the twins' collars with the other.

"Thanks King," they said together. It sounded considerably more sincere than normal.

Hermione strolled back up as they were reseating themselves and slammed a pair of dishes on the table. "Wow, you guys can't handle a bunch of little fuzzy things? That's kind of sad…"  
"Oh, yes. I've always considered it a personal failing that I lack the ability to pacify a horde of animals through sheer force of bloodlust," George said sarcastically.

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile. "Dad is going to be so proud. He's always said I could use a little more backbone and that I should stand up for myself more."

"There's probably a line between 'standing up for yourself' and 'inflicting mind-numbing terror,' Mio," George declared. "A really, really big line. Like, Pacific Ocean big."

"Whatever. As long as it works, right?"

Fred shrugged. "Either way, it's damn useful. The narwhals can't bug us if there's no fuzzies here."

"Indeed. The ability to swim through a sea of mammals is a rather remarkable evolutionary twist," King observed. "It _is_ somewhat limiting, however. What a shame they seem to have cast aside their skates in favor of riding the rodents."

Hermione shoved a spoonful of ice-cream in her mouth and remarked, "You know, it's kind of sad I don't even consider a beast-wave surfing narwhal worth turning around for. And King? Man-eating beasts not being able to reach you is a _good_ thing. And they're not evolving. Let it go."

"Of course they are not evolving. They are simply altering themselves and acquiring new skills to better adapt to their environment," King declared.

There was a stunned silence.

"King. Buddy. Was that _sarcasm_?" George asked, his eyes wide with shock. "Like, actual sarcasm? Were you just being sarcastic?"

King gave him the "you're an idiot" look. "Of course. I thought that was fairly self-evident."

"Okay, now I'm just scared…"

"Oh, speaking of scared, do we have any idea where the hell Nev is?" George asked. "Because I'm actually starting to get a little worried."

"I'm sure he's fine. He's got Orchid with him, right?" Hermione declared. Despite the reassurance, there was an obviously worried look on her face. "I'm pretty sure she'd eat anything that tried to hurt him."

"Between him and Harry, we're down a third of our force. They better get back soon. How are we supposed to have a reign of terror without two of our reigns?" Fred asked. "Besides, I wanna see the look on Lord Nev's face when we tell him we're evil dictators now."

"We're _violent_ dictators, Fred. That's what we decided."

"Oh yeah. Does it really matter? Being a terrifying dictator is pretty awesome either way, right?"

"Depends. Can I use my violent dictator powers to get some custard? How'd you get that?" George inquired, pointing at Hermione's second cup.

"Weasel-chucks," she answered simply, as if that explained everything. "Just go and grab… uh… maybe you should just stay here."

"What? Why? What happened?"

Hermione watched the Golden Retriever swim through atop a ball of mammals with a pump shotgun carefully balanced on his back.

"Just… stay here. I'm not really sure what's going on, but I'm confident you don't want to be involved. Trust me on this one, okay?"

George shrugged and sat back down. "Eh, alright. It's probably not a good idea, anyway. It looks pretty bad out there for anyone that doesn't immediately induce nightmares in fuzzies. Too many pointy bits."

Fred frowned as he gazed upon the writhing sea of mammals, students, narwhals and medieval weaponry. "Why are the suits of armor armed, anyway? I mean, they just stand right there in the halls, holding spiked maces of death. Doesn't that seem a little irresponsible when you've got hundreds of kids running around.

"Fred, I can set people on fire with a stick. A stick they _gave_ me," Hermione pointed out, waving her wand in the air. "For some reason I don't think our safety is their number one concern."

"But… swords? That's just dumb!"

"You know, he's got a point. And some of the armors are ornery bastards, too," George added.

"Like the one on the third floor that mugs you at knifepoint?"

George shook his head. "No, I was thinking of the one in the west corridor that trips people with its spear."

"Oh, you mean that one?" Hermione asked, pointing behind them.

George turned around and watched as a narwhal surfed by, riding a wave of ferrets. A suit of armor was mounted on its back, raising a metal spear high.

"Yeah, that one. Where the hell did he come from?"

"Oh, he came in in an anaconda a while ago. Just before the fuzzies."

"You mean he came in _with_ an anaconda, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. Definitely in it. He was all gross and covered with anaconda stuff until a wave of rats hit him."

"Oh. That explains the rats pouring out of his face," George said with a nod. "Also, that sight is gonna haunt my nightmares for _years_."

"Don't be a wuss. That's no worse than Orchid eating a cow."

"Yeah, because that was great. Eating a cow spleen was exactly what I wanted to wrap the week up with. You could've warned us to close our mouths or something," George complained.

"But… that would've ruined the surprise!"

"So," Fred began, slapping an empty dish onto the table. "Who thinks we're actually gonna have classes this afternoon? Any takers?"

Hermione twitched as she looked at the cup. "That… was my custard."

"Oh, was it? Sorry, it looked like you were done with it."  
"That was mine, you ass! If you want one, you can go mug someone yourself!" Hermione snapped. "You really should know-"

"I get it! Weasel-chucks!" George suddenly declared, holding a pair of mammals aloft.

"...George, those are ferrets. You can't make weasel-chucks out of ferrets," Hermione sighed, staring at the offending animals.

Behind her, Fred gave him a thumbs up and mouthed, "Good save!"

"That's just silly," Hermione sighed. "No one's going to hand over their custard because you threatened to bludgeon them unconscious with a pair of _ferrets_."

"Sorry, kind of short on weasels at the moment," George said apologetically.

Sighing again, Hermione rifled around in her robes and yanked out a pair of weasels. "Here. You can borrow mine. Just make sure you return them in the same condition!" she instructed, handing the terrified fuzzies over.

"Scared shitless and traumatized beyond all reason?"

"Exactly. If you're going to do something stupid like wander out there, you may as well be properly equipped. Just watch out for narwhals that are packing. I'm pretty sure they can't pull a trigger with those flippers, but at this rate they'll probably form a symbiotic relationship with something that can."

"Good enough," George decided, standing and giving the weasels an experimental swing. "King, you want something? Custard? Pudding? I think I even saw some Jello."

King thought for a moment. "I would appreciate a lemon pudding, if you can obtain one."

"Sweet. I'll look. I'm sure someone'll give one up if I weasel the piss outta them. If I'm not back in ten minutes… wait longer." Shoving his wand into his mouth and holding it in his mouth, George dove head-first into a whirling mass of fuzzy paws and tails. He vanished into them, screaming between gritted teeth and whirling a pair of frightened weasel-chucks.

"Aren't you supposed to be the responsible one?" Hermione demanded, raising an eyebrow. "First you say we can be dictators, and now you're _stealing pudding_?"

Fred giggled. "I like how you act like it's the pudding that's unforgivable. Shows good sense of priorities."

"Well it _is_ pudding…"

"You do realize that silence is not the same as acceptance, yes?" the dense wizard asked.

Fred giggled again. "That's what she said. Wait, am I allowed to make that joke?"

Hermione nodded. "As the sole witch in the middle of this massive sausage fest, you have my blessing."

"Either way, I think it is perhaps not worth the effort I expend to protect our peers," King declared. "They hardly seem to appreciate it, as they only return it with resentment and distaste. Even after two months, they have yet to correct their behavior towards Neville, and he has been nothing but cordial. They even benefit from the abilities of his familiar, yet..."

"Wow. That really _does_ piss you off, doesn't it?"

King's face hardened slightly as he looked at her. "I believe even those that are guilty of the worst transgressions deserve a second chance. I do not believe they are worthy of a third. Besides, I like pudding."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. That's still two more than I'd give them."

"But I said-"

Hermione broke in, "I know. I think I might be a fan of preemptive justice. It's hard for people to do unto you if you do unto them first."

"I am not certain that is the best policy, but it is certainly effective."

Hermione shrugged and replied, "It probably would've made my life a lot more enjoyable if I'd figured that out earlier. See how nice your braids look when they're on fire, you bi-"

"You know, I kind of feel like our lives are just getting weirder as time goes on," Fred commented.

The main doors to the Great Hall exploded inward, showering the student body with chunks of wood. Dozens of avians were forced to the ground as splinters filled the air. Students shrieked in fear, fuzzies tried to hide under tables and narwhals wove across the ice as they evaded falling wreckage. The pair guarding the door suddenly learned to fly. It was unfortunate for Snape that they'd only mastered flying downward, and that he happened to be beneath him.

Wincing at his scream, Fred muttered, "Funny, I figured he'd like playing bottom for a pair of horny beasts."

The dust and wreckage began to settle, revealing…

A maid.

"See? That's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," Fred whispered. "How random is that? I mean… it's a maid with a freaking death-blade-thing. What the hell?"

"Oh dear," Sara exclaimed softly. She strode into the hall, seeming to barely notice the ice as she walked forth. Rend was held loosely in her right hand, his tip trailing behind and gouging a ragged trench in the frosty floor. "I suppose that explains it, doesn't it? It seems winter came early, and the doors were embedded in ice. No wonder they didn't open..."

"The first thing you try when a door doesn't open is smashing it into oblivion?" Harry inquired.

Sara nodded, shouldering Rend. "Generally. Should it not be?"

"Nah. Saves time. I mean, I would've used fire, but that works," he said as he clambered up into the hall after her, examining the devastation with a critical eye. "I kinda feel like I missed something. Aw, they already delivered the crate. I wanted to see Ron open it!"

"It's alright, Master. You can always unleash another fuzzy plague. Is that them over there?" Sara asked, lifting Rend and pointing his tip at the twins.

"Yup. That's them."

Sara nodded and turned to the crowd of assorted creatures. Smiling sweetly, she said, "Move."

Unsurprisingly, the C.A.C. failed to move. In fact, they simply looked back at her with various degrees of confusion, contempt and shrinking pants.

Frowning, the maid yanked Rend back and swung him around in a tight arc. The sword's barbed blade slammed into the floor with a frightening amount of force. Another tremor shook the hall as a large section of glacier suddenly became a mass of stinging shrapnel. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as King's punch had been, but it was a lot closer than most people got.

Smiling again, Sara said, "Please?"

The C.A.C. quickly shuffled aside, leaving a clear path from Sara to the twins. A single narwhal didn't quite get the message, however, and was left standing awkwardly in the freshly-evacuated area. It looked around with obvious confusion, swinging a large broadsword hanging from its mouth. Eventually it caught sight of Sara and froze, quickly glancing down at its sword and then back up at Rend.

Sara swung the blade up, then slammed the tip into the floor. It bit deep enough into the recently uncovered stone for it to be quite noticeable.

There was a loud clang as the broadsword hit the ice. The narwhal, its mouth still hanging wide open, slowly skated backward into the crowd.

"There you are, Master. Please be careful on the ice."

Harry carefully climbed up onto the damaged ice sheet. "Thanks, Sara."

"Of course, Master. Miss Vasia will contact you soon."

Sara watched Harry with a smile until he had managed to carefully slide his way most of the distance to his fiends. With a final wave, she turned and strode back through the ruined doors, leaving her blade embedded in the floor.

"Rend," she called back over her shoulder. "Please return to the manor soon. Candice can be quite difficult when you're not present."

The sword, unsurprisingly, gave no response as she vanished from sight.

Harry scrambled up to their customary spot and plopped down next to Hermione. "Hey guys. What's up? I kinda feel like missed something. There's… a lot more ice than normal."

"Yeah, that was your stalker. You owe her a flamejob, by the way," George announced. He slammed a tray heavily laden with various desserts down on the table. "She's under the ice somewhere. We should probably get her out. Later. After we finish dessert."

"George? I don't know if you noticed, but you've got a nasty case of the squirrels," Harry stated, pointing at the rodents the redhead had on each shoulder.

George shrugged, nearly dislodging his passengers. "I find the squirrel cannon makes the weasel-chucks more effective. Maybe even as much as 85%," he explained, raising his arms to display Hermione's traumatized weasels. "If I had a chinchilla, I'd be unstoppable."

"That's great George," Hermione brushed him off. "Harry, what the-"

Harry held up a hand, silencing her. "Having anticipated this reaction, I had this informative reading material prepared in advance!" he proudly declared, slapping a sheaf of loosely-bound parchment down on the table. Two more quickly followed it. There was a frown as he fished around for a moment. "Oops. Must've dropped some. Fred, can you share George's?"

The redhead looked Harry up and down with an impassive look on his face. "Eh. You good?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I'm good too," Fred declared. "Better than I'll be in a few hours, anyway. I love cherry Firehole Gelly, but it hates me… As long as you've got all your pieces and think you'll be keeping them for a bit, that's all I need to know.."

"Harry, are you _sure_ that was a good idea?" Hermione asked in a worried tone, lowering the small pamphlet. "I mean, you made her a part of your _family_."

Harry frowned. "I didn't even _have_ a family Mio. Now I have a sister/cousin thing and a bunch of… uh, servants. Ick. I really don't like calling them that. But I already like them a _lot_ better than the Dursleys, and they've talked to me more in a day than my 'guardian' has in my whole life."

"If you're sure…"

"Good. That's settled!" George said cheerfully. "Who wants to binge on sugar until we rainbow, then eat some more?"

"Aye!" six voices cheered.

The others looked in surprise at the boy sitting next to King.

"Neville! There you are. When did you pop up, and where the hell've you been, man?" George demanded.

"In the Forbidden Forest. Aw,, man. Did the mystery meat have eyes today?" Neville asked sadly.

Hermione pulled a tightly wrapped handkerchief from her robes and gave it to him. "Here. I saved a bunch of the good ones for you. There wasn't any green ones, but they're really juicy today. There's even a few with two pupils.

With an excited look on his face, Neville unwrapped the piece of cloth and examined the contents critically. "Wow, these _are_ good! Thanks Mio, you're the best."

Hermione blushed prettily as Neville popped an eye into his mouth. His teeth came together with a squish, sending a squirt of viscous fluid flying across the table. The jet of fluid caught Fred in the face, splattering across his eyes.

"Jesus! My eyes! It burns!" Fred screamed, flailing and clawing wildly at his face. His panicked thrashing tipped his chair backwards. He hit the floor just in time for a ball of wildlife to swallow him. The narwhal riding it let out a triumphant cry, raising his axe toward the ceiling as the blob surged away. There was no sign of Fred as it vacated the area.

"So, that was weird," Neville observed. "Anyone eating that tart?"

George shook his head and pushed the pastry forward. "Have at it. Why're they doing that?"

"Doing what?"

George pointed at a passing blob of fuzzies. "The ball thing. I'm no Professor Nutmuncher, but I'm pretty sure they shouldn't be fusing into a single horrible entity," he said as he turned his curious gaze toward Harry.

"They were on clearance. The Extra-Large Happy Kitten Infestation Fun Pack is supposed to be full of crunchy things that are trained to run and hide and stuff. They had a bunch that didn't come out right. Something about bad conditioning and weird behavior."

"Ye~ah. I'd say fusing into a wizard-swallowing death ball falls under 'weird behavior,'" George giggled.

Sighed and looked down at the table sadly. "I can't believe someone else let animals into the castle. I worked really hard on this, too."

"Harry _and_ Fred, actually," Hermione corrected. "You let something loose? Where is it?"

"We were waiting for Angel to get back. Orchid can keep stuff penned up, but she's not good at herding a bunch of things. She keeps 'accidentally' eating stuff that looked like they were 'getting away.' Wait just a minute. I left them behind to get everything here."

His friends stared at him. It was the "you moron" look.

"What?"

"You left them to do something like that alone? Are you insane!?" Hermione shrilled.

"What's wrong? It's really easy. They can do it…"

Harry put a hand on his friend's shoulder and stared into his eyes. "Nev… When you told them what to do, you were specific, right? Like, really, really specific?"

"What? I just told them to get the animals out of the forest and into the castle. It's easy."

Neville's friends gave him horrified looks. He wilted beneath their gaze, hunching down and turning away.

"Neville," Hermione began. "You told them to get the animals you _caught_ here, right? You didn't just say 'get the animals into Hogwarts,' right? Please tell us you told them _which_ animals to force into the castle…"

The young wizard slowly went pale as things finally clicked into place in his head. "Oh shit."

"It's cool, guys. Lord Nev has the seed thing, right? Why not just tell Flower she can eat everything and call it off?" George suggested.

"Good idea. There's one problem, though," Hermione said with a sigh.

George looked at her in obvious confusion. "What problem?"

"This," Hermione replied, making a broad gesture. Just as she did, screams (well, _more_ screams) erupted from the other end of the hall. Seeing the others' shocked looks, she shrugged and finished her fifth parfait. "Oh, come on. Them arriving a split second too late to call it off? That's so predictable."

A good number of students had decided to capitalize on the destruction of the door and use the gaping hole to escape the hall. Now they found themselves regretting that decision. A hole that leads out also leads in, of course, and something decided it needed to enter the hall a lot more than the students needed to vacate. A lot of somethings.

White wolves poured into the hall.

Luckily for everyone involved, they weren't your garden-variety murderous canines. No, these wolves were no larger than a Chihuahua. As the panicked beasts swept into the hall and assaulted the students it was discovered that, much to their victims' relief, their claws and fangs were too blunt to even break the skin. Even a good, solid chomp didn't do much more than sting.

"The hell are those?" Fred demanded as he gingerly lowered himself back into his seat. He was quite a bit worse for the wear, covered in scratches and scrapes as he was, but otherwise intact. "Are they even a thing? I've never seen 'em before. How do you think they'll affect the beast-tides? I was thinking about going surfing again later."

"I don't really know what they are. Angel and Orchid call them Sissy Wolves. They found them while they were playing in the forest. I kind of assume they mean 'finding things to brutally murder and eat' when they say 'playing,'" Neville replied.

"Yeah. Probably a safe assumption."

Neville shrugged. "If it makes them happy, I guess. The wolf-things are harmless," he declared, raising his arm and pulling back his sleeve. There was a reddened semicircle of tooth marks on his forearm. "One got me really good earlier. That's about all they can do."

Hermione examined his arm and nodded. "Well, that's fine, then. At least you didn't let a horde of flesh-eating monsters loose like _someone_ did," she muttered, glaring at Fred.

Neville looked at him in horror. "Those are _Saharan_ narwhals? They _eat kids_!"

"In my defense, I totally didn't really think it through before letting a bunch of extremely dangerous animals loose in the school," Fred said defensively.

"That is not really a point in your favor, Red," King sighed as he finished a bowl of pudding. "Is there any lime?"

Neville turned the tray of desserts and sighed in relief. "I almost did, I think. Those're what they were supposed to bring, though. Good thing, too. It could've been a lot worse…"

There was a brief silence.

"Shit," Neville groaned.

As the stream of sissified wolves finally petered out, it became readily apparent what they were running from wasn't Angel and Orchid. A flood of creatures straight out of a nightmare followed hot on their heels as the tried to escape into the Great Hall. They were an unholy cross between a spider, scorpion and alligator, with all the worst features of each.

The monsters immediately launched into the air, their eight carapace-covered legs catapulting them towards the ceiling. They flew into the room with their massive, snaggle-toothed jaws hanging open. Thick globs of shining drool trailed behind them as they began landing stinger-first on the panicked Sissy Wolves with uncanny accuracy.

It's quite fortunate that they weren't much bigger than the wolves, and seemed to have no interest in larger prey. Both student and narwhal escaped the assault unscathed, though a few owls weren't so lucky. This, of course, caused the birds to resume their violent rampage.

"So, what're those called?" George inquired.

Scratching his head, Neville admitted, "I dunno. Never seen them before."

"Cool. Can I name them Alliderions?"

"I like Spiscorators better."

"Shoot?"

"Shoot."

Scissors beat paper. George beats Fred.

` "Damn it!"

"Alliderions it is."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Why do you even play him? You know you're just going to lose…"

"Someday I will win!" Fred declared. "I'll win, or I'll die trying!"

"Anyone want to guess which is more likely?"

Raising a finger to his lips in a 'shush' gesture, George hissed, "Quiet. Don't discourage him. Don't worry, brother. I'm sure you can do it!"

"Thanks George! I'm glad _someone_ believes in me."

"Oh lord, protect me from idiots."

"Hey, that's-"

Neville bit into another eye, sending another gooey stream across the table. This one caught Fred right in the mouth. The redhead immediately began coughing and choking. He spat repeatedly on the floor as he gagged in disgust.

"Sweet Merlin! It's like someone left a bottle of milk and antifreeze in the sun for a month, then poured it over the rotting carcass of an unwashed troll marinated in toilet water and despair," He gasped.

Neville glared at him. "Hey, I like the orange ones. That was even one of the ones with a weird cross pupil. You should be glad you got some."

"Damn it, where the hell's Bubbles when you need a water grenade detonated in your mouth!?"

"I am not sure. I do believe you were the last one to see her."

Neville frowned as he looked around the hall. "Where'd all the ice come from? I'm pretty sure it wasn't here last night at dinner."

"Fred got the ice chick to go swimming."

"So the staff're covered in hardened _and_ frozen stuff?"

Hermione giggled into her pudding. "They've been like that for _hours_. It's kind of sad."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But it's pretty impressive they can breath like that."

There was a prolonged silence as everyone fixed him with their shocked gazes.

"What? Their whole faces are covered. _I_ couldn't breath like that…"

Hermione slowly turned and gave George a questioning look. "George? Can wizards breath through frozen jelly?"

"I've never been under a candy coating, but I'm thinking we probably can't…"

Fred clapped his hands together and cheerfully asked, "So, who's up for a trip to Egypt? No extradition treaties and I'm sure our brother could hook us up."

"They've gotta be able to breath at least a little. I don't think Professor McGonagall would just sit there and let them suffocate…" Neville reasoned.

"Yeah… I don't think she likes the rest of the staff a whole lot."

"She likes Hagrid," Hermione declared.

"He busted out a while ago. Just kind of shrugged it off and left. I think he said something about a new suit," George stated. "What about Flitwick? They seem to get along."

Hermione shook her head. "He wasn't even in there for two minutes. He just kind of slipped out through the jelly."

"An anti-jelly countermeasure? He is… unstoppable," Fred declared in an awed tone.

"Don't be any more of an idiot than you have to, Fred."  
"I'll try, but no promises. I'm under contractual obligation."

Neville examined the frozen staff members. "Their mouths aren't _totally_ covered. They can probably breathe a little."

King frowned. "Perhaps it would be best if we released them posthaste."

"Oh! I'll do it!" Hermione offered. Grabbing a goblet, she quickly transfigured it into a glass bottle. A tablecloth became a dirty rage a moment later. Pouring a glass of pumpkin juice into it, she tapped it and said, " _Acidum._ I've always wanted to throw a molotov cocktail!"

"Wait, hold on. What was that spell?" George demanded.

Hermione giggled. "Fermentation Spell."

"Whoa, hold up! That's a thing? It just makes booze out of stuff?" George gasped. "I've… wasted my entire life."

"Yeah, I wouldn't try drinking it. It tastes like drain cleaner and it's probably worse for you," Hermione suggested. "So, can I booze bomb them?"

"Perhaps she should," King suggested, drawing several shocked looks. "What? It would seem to be the most expedient way to free them. It also has the added benefit of destroying all evidence. I would rather not lose any of you to Azkaban. I am quite certain the adult wizards entrusted with our future can handle a little fire."

"And if they can't, we'll be getting better ones!" Fred cheered. "It's win-win-win. Except for anyone that gets cremated, but whatever. Can't make and egg-free omelette without roasting a few candy-coated professors!"

Hermione flicked her wand across the booze-soaked rag, igniting it. "Sure. Whatever. Can I throw this or not?"

"Anyone have a problem with igniting the professors we don't like?"

Neville shrugged. "Could you try to get some of the Alliderions? I'm kind of wondering what they taste like…"

"Lord Nev… Dude… that's really gross," George muttered with a disgusted look on his face.

"Can I have the stinger?" Fred asked excitedly. "I've never had stinger before."

"You do realize it is most likely poisonous, do you not?"

"Whatever," Fred said dismissively. "Madam Pomfrey has antivenoms."

"Madam Pomfrey's about to be on fire."

"I kind of feel bad about that."

"We'll put her out quick."

"Perhaps it would be better to not ignite her at all."

"Would you shut up!" Hermione snapped. "I want to enjoy this moment. I'm throwing it now!"  
"Try to hit Quirrell. He freaks me out."

She reared back and hurled the bottle into the air. The flaming projectile sailed across the hall, flying over the heads of the assembled students, narwhals, rodents and Alliderions. It slammed into Quirrell's face, bounced off and hit the floor with a thunk. The flame immediately went out.

Hermione looked at it for several seconds with an expression of shock and disappointment on her face. Finally she sighed and growled, "Harry. Torch it," in a disgusted tone.

" _Ast ut nihil_."

A ripple passed through the air, streaking across the ice and slamming into the now-extinguished molotov. The bottle burst, throwing shards of glass and flaming booze in every direction. The blobs of flame splashed across the frozen floor, burned for a moment, then went out.

"Wow. Those are a lot more impressive on the telly," Harry observed.

Hermione glared at what was left of the improvised firebomb like she was trying to make it explode through sheer force of will. "Fred. Give me your Firehole Gelly."

The redhead gave her a confused look. "Firehole Gelly? What Firehole Gelly?"

"You're _always_ carrying some. I see you eating it all the time. God knows why," Hermione growled. "Hand it over. Don't make me have Harry steal it."

"Too late!" Harry announced, slamming several jars on the table. "Watermelon? Gross. Who eats watermelon Firehole Gelly?"

"Who eats it, end of sentence," Hermione muttered, raising her wand.

"Wait! I don't think that's a good-" George began.  
" _Acidum_."

The watermelon gelly brightened in color until it was an unnatural shade of neon pink. It began bubbling and hissing, instantly popping the cover of the jar off. Thin wisps of smoke wound up from it, then crystallized and fell to the table as a rain of black particles.

"Okay, what the heck is that?" Neville asked. "Is it _boiling_? Is that stuff boiling all on its own?"

George cautiously scooted his chair back, eyes fixed on the substance. "It didn't explode and kill us all. That's all I really need to know."

"Wow. Uh… I'm suddenly having second thoughts about this…" Hermione muttered as she looked at the jar with wide eyes.

" _Ast ut nihil_."

The air wavered as a burst of heat slammed into the glass container. The substance immediately went from neon pink to eye-searing white.

" _Harry_!"

The first-year thrust his drawn wand in Fred's general direction. "Fred did it!"

"Fred! Why did you do that!?" Hermione screamed.

"What? Are you kidding me! It was obviously Harry. My wand isn't even out!"

"Just throw the damn thing before it explodes!" George roared.

King reached across the table, grabbed the jar and hurled it. The glass projectile shot across the room like a bullet. It impacted Quirrell's face violently, shattering his shell and knocking him to the ground. The professor's face deflected the jar, popping it up into the air.

"Oh, thank Merlin. I thought I'd never get out of there!" he gasped.

Still spinning through the air, the jar of altered gelly suddenly flashed. There was a vile, obscene slurping noise as the glass shattered. Something that may have been a smoke or incredibly fine mist exploded outward in every direction. It foamed, expanded and hardened as streams of it fell to the ground. One particularly large burst of it slammed down on Quirrell, encasing him.

Hermione gave the chunk that'd landed on their table a good poke with her wand. It had adhered to the surface, becoming an unstable tower of hardened material reaching almost all the way to the roof. Like all the streams, it curved and terminated in the giant wad of it hanging supported in the air like a spider on a hundred spindly legs. The material was light, airy, spongy and - luckily for the witches, wizards and narwhals that had been imprisoned in it - extremely porous

With a forceful jab, the witch buried half her wand in the foam. "What the heck is this stuff…?"

"We're supposed to know? You and Harrysack made it. Seriously, what is wrong with you guys? You can't just go and violate the laws of physics, rationality and sanity like that," George rebuked them. "How're we supposed to keep up with you?"

"Fred and Neville let a ton of carnivores loose in the school," Hermione pointed out. "I'm pretty sure there's more dangerous animals than there is people in here at this point. I think you're probably the only one that needs to step up their game."

"Oh, don't worry. You'll get a giggle out of this. Everyone will, actually."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Hermione said, "George, if you make the rest of my day 'interesting' you'll have a big problem. Don't do anything that'll get you in trouble. We're the only ones who talk to you, so you'd be in rough shape."

"I'm a lovable scamp. You'd forgive me as soon as you sobered- uh, before the end of the day. And why would I want the rest of these scrubs to talk to me? As a matter of fact, I try to discourage them. They just keep doing it though! We had to talk to Percy just the other day."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. He was carefully applying his shears to the solidified foam. It was hard going, given that it was very tough and had a tendency to just squish and slide out of the blades. "He was yelling at us just the other day. Something about turning in parchment we used as loo paper as our Potions homework."

"Some people just don't appreciate art."

"That's not art, George."

"Sure it is."

"No, it's not. King, tell him it's not!" Hermione ordered.

The boy in question gave her an aggrieved look. "I am somewhat offended that you think I am the sort of person to judge how another should express themselves. I may not understand it, but that does not mean it is not valid."

"Hey! The grape gelly did the same thing!" Harry declared, holding up a jar of glowing purple substance.

Hermione snatched it away from him and immediately hurled it with all her might. There was a thwack, a scream and a slurp. More streamers of foam splattered around the room, followed immediatelly by a familiar voice screaming, "Cho!"

"Well, at least she doesn't have to worry about being at the center of a narwhal orgy anymore," Fred cheerfully declared. "You could even say we did her a favor!"

George giggled in response. "Man, we do her a _lot_ of favors. Maybe we should start charging."

"Should they really be teaching us? I mean, even _I_ wouldn't get caught in exploding fermented Firehole Gelly foam," Neville declared with a dissatisfied frown.

"To be fair, I think you've got a lot more practice dodging this kind of thing than they do."

There was a faint tug at the bottom of Harry's pant leg. Leaning down to peer under the table, he discovered a small, red kitten sitting in the icy crater. Oddly enough, it had a small, black flower blooming on its head.

"Angel?" Harry said, reaching under the table to lift her up.

"Nyo!" the cat declared, proudly raising a paw.

"Nev's been back a while, so where the heck've you been? Wait! Don't!" he cried, hurling the cat high into the air. He was just in time, too.

She suddenly expanded, unfolding into her human form in an instant. It was a strange process to watch, something like a human exploding out of a kitten. Her form was briefly naked as she twisted in the air. An explosion of brambles solved that issue, wrapping around her and leaving her in one-piece swimsuit with a cutout over her midriff. As usual, it was probably more cutout than swimsuit.

Angel touched down lightly on the table and bent forward to scowl at Harry. Fred, who was seated directly behind her, suffered a sudden fit of coughing. George turned and slugged him him in the gut, causing him to hack up a soggy bite of sponge cake. It had barely hit the table before George literally kicked Fred aside and quickly took his place.

"Wow. Those vines _really_ ride up…"

"My Bo~y~, you can't throw the kitties! We don't like it!" Angel scolded him.

"And I don't like someone bigger than me slamming my face into the ground. Where were you?"

"Silly My Boy. Didn't Lord Nev tell you? We were getting the things for him!"

"Well, 'the things' have been chewing on everyone for ages."

George suddenly came down with Fred's coughing disease as the bouncy redhead shook her head, simultaneously wiggling her rear. "Uh-uh, My Boy. We still had to get the fun one!"

Everyone at the table went pale.

"Nev? Call it off. Call it off right now," George ordered.

Neville nodded frantically. "Orchid? Whatever it is, get rid of it!"

"But.. but… he's our friend!" Angel protested.

"No friends," Harry declared. "Just do what Nev says."

"Uh, we~ll, we can't really do that. Pretty Flower already told her viney things what to do, and now they're way over there. Mr. Squiggles is gonna be here real, real quick!"

"...Mr. Squiggles?"

"Yep! He's fun! He'll be here in a-"

A massive, deafening roar rocked the hall. Just a moment before it had been a massive mess. Now the various melees and skirmishes around the room stopped short. Every living thing present froze as they stared at the main doors. An almost palpable sense of dread filled the area.

A massive tentacle slid in and attached itself to the wall next to the door.

Harry: "Oh, vasco."

Neville: "What the vasco is that!?"

Hermione: "Yeah, we're vasco'd."

King: "Well, that is certainly… different."

Fred: "Would it be weird if a held you?"

George: "Only if I don't grab your ass back."

A second tentacle slid in after the first, grabbing the wall opposite it. A third quickly joined it. The fourth attached itself to the ceiling, blotting out a small part of the sky. Trailing four more tentacles behind it, a massive shark's head swung into the room.

"Anyone have a problem with 'sharktopus?'" Neville asked quietly.

"I do. I have two, actually," Harry announced. "The first one is that it's a thing that exists. The second one is that _someone_ decided it needed an education, and that Hogwarts would be the right place to get it."

Angel giggled as she watched the sharktopus try to balance on the slippery floor. "Silly My Boy. This isn't a good place to learn things at all."

Fred raised a hand to point at her and snapped, "That is _not_ true! We learn lots of things here!"

"Fred? You realized everything useful we've learned so far is stuff we learned on our own to torture people. Well, aside from the stuff McGonagall teaches," George pointed out.

"Well, it's probably still not nice to get everyone eaten," Harry scolded her. "What have I told you about making things go crunch?"

"Uh-uh, My Boy. Mr. Squiggles won't hurt anyone. See?"

The group watched as Mr. Squiggles lunged forward, his mouth gaping as shot towards a young Gryffindor. The student started turning to flee, then watched in confusion as the sharktopus missed him by a good ten feet. The hybrid slammed face first into the ice, impacting it hard enough to produce a very audible crunch. It flailed its tentacles as it slid, but was unable to stop before slamming into the Slytherin tables. The furniture had no give, its legs buried in two feet of ice, which resulted in the sharktopus' head getting wedged under it. The tentacles continued to flail across the ice in an attempt to find purchase. The beast apparently didn't realize it could just push off the table.

"That thing isn't very good at sharktopusing," George decided.

Angel gave him a toothy grin. "Mr. Squiggles tried to nom pretty flower on the way here. Nomming nom-nom plants isn't a good idea."

"So, you're saying that thing is tripping?" George asked.

Angel nodded.

"You let a hallucinating sharktopus-thing loose in the school?" Harry asked as he watched the beast finally free itself. It immediately lunged at the nearest student, passing a good distance over her head and slamming into the wall.

Angel nodded again.

"You realize drugging things and turning them loose in the school isn't a good thing to do, right?"

"Yeah… about that…" George said, his voice slightly muffled.

Harry turned to look at him in confusion. "George? Is that a respirator? Why are you wearing a respirator?"

"Because it's almost four o'clock. You might wanna hold your breath or something. There's no way you'll make it somewhere safe, but I bet you'll make some funny faces while you try," he chuckled.

Hermione fixed him with a glare that sent a chill through his bones.

"Uh, if you start running now, you might make it out of the castle," he quickly offered. "It depends on which way the wind's blowing and how well foxes operate giant slingshots, though."

There was a soft thump, barely audible over the panicked melee happening in the hall, as a large cloth satchel sailed through the destroyed window and landed on the ice. A fox was standing proudly atop it, looking around through her tiny fox gasmask. A moment later several more satchels landed, for the most part unnoticed. One of them carried the second half of the pair, wearing an identical mask.

King studied the small cluster of projectiles and observed, "It would appear vulpines are surprisingly proficient in the operation of siege weaponry."

"Not really. Half of those would've missed if Harry's box hadn't busted the window," Hermione disagreed as she tied a wet strip of robe over her nose and mouth. "I assume those are supposed to be doing something?"

"Yeah… yes they are."

Ru stood posed proudly atop her bag for several long seconds, completely ignoring the riot happening around her. Eventually she tilted her head in confusion, then glanced down at the satchel and gave it an annoyed look. Hopping down and easily finding purchase on the ice, she began rapidly whacking it with one paw. When that failed to accomplish anything, she turned to shoot George a questioning look.

"Maybe I got the fuses wrong…? I was so careful," he muttered. Pulling back his sleeve, he looked down at his watches. "Oops. I'm guessing it isn't 7:22, is it?"

"I really feel like I shouldn't have to answer that…"

"Damn. Forgot to wind that one again."

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "George, you're wearing five watches. How in the world did you manage to mess that up? You didn't notice that literally every other watch didn't match that one?"

"It was late… or maybe early… but that one's my favorite. I don't really look at the other ones most of the time."

"How do you forget to wind it if it's your favorite?" Neville inquired.

"...don't judge me."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, please help the idiot."

A wave of heat skimmed across the ground, leaving a trail of water in its wake. It slammed straight into the package, scorching the canvas and sending Ru scrambling away in surprise. A thick, purple smoke began to seep out of it.

"So, for the record, that wasn't supposed to be on fire," George stated in a much-too-calm voice. "I don't have a freaking clue what happens when you burn that shit. Now might be a good time to be not-here."

Hermione looked at the bag nervously. "Oh. So… what was in there again?"

"Energizing Powder, a mild Confounding Powder and Giggledust. Oh, and I added a bunch of Funtime Moss last night," George replied as he calmly slid out of chair. "So, who wants to casually head for the main door while whistling nonchalantly?"

"That might not be a good idea. I think I saw a narwhal with a crossbow over there," Neville informed them.

"Was it loaded?"

"I dunno."

"Well, I doubt narwhals can reload crossbows, so you've got a one in six chance either wayh. Those are good odds," Hermione stated. "Probably better than if we stay-"

The package detonated violently, filling the hall with a cloying purple mist and launching Ru - who had begun pawing it curiously - into the air. The fox rocketed towards the wall at a speed that would almost have certainly resulted in a gooey smear. At the last minute she was saved as someone grabbed her and snatched her out of the air.

Ru's eyes widened in horror as she stared at the grinning face of the sharktopus. Wiggling frantically, she tried to scramble out of its grip. Unfortunately, the tentacle wrapped around her body was too strong. She was left with no option but to watch with fearful eyes as it slowly opened its mouth.

The sharktopus inhaled.

That was a mistake.

With Ru halfway to its deadly teeth, the ferocious hybrid suddenly froze. It examined her, making a noise like a blue whale's call as it looked at her whiskered muzzle. One tentacle slowly came up and flailed in the air around her head. Eventually the creature managed to its mark, placing the limb gently on Ru's head and petting her as it produced a series of clicking noises.

(Nice snakey. Good snakey. Pretty snakey.)

Ru stared at it with a very weirded-out look on her face. After a moment it lifted her and studied her with one eye.

(Whoa. I've never seen a snake with legs before. Or… or fur. You're like, some kind of furry snake with four legs. That's wicked, man.)

 _Uh… what?_

The sharktopus' eyes widened. A horrified scream erupted from it as it recoiled in fear.

(Holy shit! It fucking talks!)

With a snap of its tentacle, it launched her back the way she'd came. Luckily she was headed in the right direction this time. Angel reached up as she passed, easily and gently ending her flight.

"Good snakey," Angel giggled. "Pretty snakey!"

 _Bite me._

"Ooh, sorry. I don't eat my friends. So- Gah! Flower! Bad! Dirty Flower! No dirty brain pictures!"

Similar scenes were playing out all over the hall as every student present got a good lungful of what could accurately be called 'the good shit.'

"So, we just dosed over seven hundred children what appears to be an extremely potent drug," Hermione said conversationally. She dragged a finger across her improvised mask and stared at the purple residue left on it. "We just made a narcotic gas grenade. I'm not sure if we should be considered violent dictators or supervillains at this point."

Harry carefully lifted his wet rag and slipped a struggling bite of mystery meat into his mouth. "Do we have to be super _villains_?"

"Harry, have you ever heard of a superhero doing something like this? How is this any different from Joker venom or fear gas?"

An owl slammed into their table at high speed, bouncing off and slamming into the wall at the far side of the hall.

"That's a good point."

Fred giggled, flopping over to sprawl across Neville's lap. He unsteadily raised his hand and pointed a shaking finger at the other boy's face. " _That's_ a good point!" he announced. He immediately started giggling at his own joke.

"Good job, Fred," Neville said indulgently, popping another eye in his mouth.

"Uh, Nev? You feeling okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, why?"

An owl slammed into their serving platter, annihilating the few remaining desserts. It managed to get out one surprised hoot before impacting the wall with a meaty spalt. It slowly slid down to join the one that had preceded it.

Harry reached up and tugged at his mask. "You're, uh… kinda breathing the stuff. A lot of it. It doesn't bother you?"

Reaching out and knocking a small accumulation of purple matter off a goblet, Neville took a sip, heedless of the remaining narcotic. "Harry? Do you have any idea how much of the day I spend poisoned out of my mind? I'm pretty sure I spend more time under the influence than not. You get used to it eventually."

"And I suppose that's your excuse, too?" George queried, pointing at Angel's uncovered face.

"Good point!" Fred cheered.

Angel giggled and shook her head. "Uh-uh. All the fun things are nom-nom hugs! Pretty Flower doesn't want to hug me, she wants to eat me. Ah! Flower, bad!"

"Bad point!" Fred declared, flopping his arm to the side and pointing at nothing in particular.

Harry gave Angel a confused look. "What was that all about?"

"We'll tell you when you're older," Hermione quickly replied.

"What? We're the same age!"

George shook his head. "No, you're not. So get this, Harrysack: Mio turned twelve and she didn't tell us."

Harry frowned at his friend and hummed, "Well that was silly," with a thoughtful expression.

"Look, we were busy. It's not like it's a big deal," Hermione declared.

George leaned to one side to avoid a ballistic owl, leaving it to splat against the wall like its brothers. "Look, can we please do something about that? It ruined my Jello!" he growled, pointing at the sharktopus.

"Good point!"

One of the creature's tentacles reached out and snatched a tweaking owl out of the air. It looked down the hall at them through half lidded eyes and raised a free limb in what was probably a very obscene gesture. It might have been something like sign language for 'your fly is down,' too. It's pretty hard to make a gesture that _isn't_ obscene when all you have is slimy tentacles.

The sharktopus wound up and whipped its tentacle forward, hurling the unfortunate owl towards them at high speed.

As it turns out, the old saying was right. If you throw enough owls, you're bound to hit something eventually. The avian artillery slammed into the back to King's head with wet splat. Harry, Hermione and George flinched away as they were showered with bird chunks.

"Hey, King. You've got a little something, man," George chuckled, gesturing vaguely at his head.

King continued to stare down at the table, heedless of the ruined bird sliding down his back.

"Yo. King. You okay?"

The third-year slowly turned. His friends froze as he unsteadily raised his head and exhaled a purple cloud. Twitching slightly, he began to make a high-pitched keening sound.

"George? How much should this worry us?" Hermione asked warily. She waited a moment, then frowned and turned to face her friend. What she found was an empty chair. "Oh, you utter bastard…"

"Bad table!" King roared. He pitched forward and slammed his face into the offending object hard enough to shake the ground. The wooden surface immediately splintered and collapsed, forcing his friends to scramble away just barely in time to avoid having their legs crushed.

"Bad point!"

"Bad table!" _Crash._

"Bad point!"

"Bad table!" _Crash_

"Good point!"

"Good table!" King screamed. He only made it halfway down to his target before freezing and giving Fred a befuddled look. "Good table?"

The redhead began laughing hysterically. He rocked back and forth wildly until he rolled straight out of Neville's lap. The noise he made as he landed face first in the ruined mess of a table was not at all pleasant. Despite that, he continued to produce muffled giggles.

Harry sighed. "And now Fred's face is full of splinters again."

"Oh, that was Fred?" Hermione asked curiously. "I noticed him wandering around on the platform, I couldn't really see who it was under all the wooden pain."

Another owl slammed into the side of King's head. He shook it off and watched it hit the floor curiously. A chunk of wet meat slid out of his ear as he tilted his head.

" _Banzai!_ " he screamed, launching himself in the air. He twisted around and spread his arms and legs as he fell. What followed was perhaps the most devastating belly-flop of all time. The dead bird was completely destroyed as he landed on it. Unwilling to be stopped by a mere two feet of ice, he sunk nearly all the way to the floor.

Hermione eyed the King-shaped hole in the ice as she wiped the latest owl-splatter off her forehead. "Ugh. Don't let that crap get in your eyes, Harry. Knowing our luck it's diseased."

"Too late," Harry whimpered. "It doesn't feel good, Mio. It doesn't feel good at all."

"And it isn't yummy. Cheap processed food," Angel grumbled, scraping some owl off her face and sticking it in her mouth. A moment later she repeated the act, this time lowering her hand so her swimsuit could devour it. "Mm… better than nothing, I guess. At least it's filling."

"Breaststroke!" King shrieked. He flailed his limbs out and began moving them in an awkward swimming motion. For anyone else, this probably would have accomplished nothing. But, undeterred by the limits of mere rationality, King managed to begin plowing through the ice. The boy quickly burrowed out of sight, becoming little more than a dark shadow beneath the frozen surface.

The three first-years stared after him, stunned into momentary silence.

"Yeah, that was pretty weird even by our standards," Neville declared.

Harry and Hermione nodded. Harry began to open his mouth to speak, only to take an owl upside the head. The impact knocked him out of his chair and sent him sliding under the Ravenclaw tables.

"Harry? You okay?" Hermione called.

"I think I'm going to need this owl surgically removed."

"I'm just going to file that under 'not okay' then," she sighed. "Honestly, it's going to be a miracle if we survive to finish our first-"

An owl wailed her straight in the face, throwing her to the ground. She slid to a stop next to Harry, a weak groan escaping her.

Neville looked down the hall with wide eyes. "Oh. Right. There was a big sharky octopus throwing those, wasn't there?"

"Angel," Harry called. "It's kind of surprising, but getting hit with an owl is pretty annoying. Please go cut that thing into pieces, then bring the pieces here so I can eat them. Sharktopus sushi sounds pretty good right now."

Angel immediately replied, "Nope. Not goin' near it."

"...what?"

"My Boy, it's all tentacley and stuff. Do you know what tentacles do? They get all touchy and do the bad things. The _really_ bad things in lots of places. Ack!" Angel squeaked as her outfit suddenly tore itself off her body forcibly enough to make her stagger.

Orchid wove together on the ice in front of her and turned to glare at the sharktopus. Her skin shifted and tore slightly as her thorns ripped at it from within.

"Oops," Angel squeaked.

The Alura Une began stalking towards the owl-hucking hybrid. Long spikes protruding from the soles of her feet dug deep into the ice, allowing her effortlessly approach it.

An owl-shaped cannonball barrelled through the air, headed straight for her head. Unfortunately for the sharktopus, bird, and everyone watching, owl artillery proved ineffective again pissed-off plants. Just before the hapless bird impacted her face, Orchid's entire torso ripped apart in a maelstrom of flailing vines. They quickly wrapped around the avian and tore it apart in a massive shower of gore. There probably wasn't a piece larger than a small marble to be found.

"Gah! Again!?"

"Hey, that one tasted a little different."

"Shut up, Harry."

Angel carefully slid over and crouched down beside them. "Um… you should probably close your eyes and watch the nothing. Nom-nom plants _really_ don't like it when someone tries to take their food. I think she probably doesn't like the naughty tentacles..."

"Cat, I just swallowed my third mouthful of owl and I'm completely covered in blood, bone and raw meat. Somehow I think we're way past the 'look away to avoid psychological damage' stage at this point," Hermione grumbled.

"Yeah.. but… Pretty Flower's a little…" Angel frowned as she watched Orchid backhand a Slytherin that came perilously close to running into her. The poor witch went careening into a group of her housemates. The small gathering found their discussion of the relative benefits of socialism over democratic regimes as they were all knocked on their asses.

Also, they were wearing berets. I don't know where they got them. I don't know why they were wearing them. But they were.

"Pretty Flower's a little pissed," Angel finished.

Hermione giggled nervously. "Nev, maybe you should tell her to come back, okay? It probably won't be good if she… uh… gets carried away."

"And by 'carried away' she means 'brutally murder someone she shouldn't,'" Harry clarified.

"Yes, Harry. I think we all understood that 'subtle' undertone."

Neville stared at them.

"Nev?"

The boy continued to look at them, slowly raising one arm. He held his hand out towards them and spread his fingers. Turning his wrist, he examined it from all sides.

"Have you guys ever actually _looked_ at your hands?" he asked in an awed whisper. "All the pieces move. They're… _amazing_."

"Okay, so, Nev's not immune to the purple haze. Good to know," Hermione sighed.

Harry gingerly reclaimed his seat and asked, "So we just watch and hope she doesn't kill anyone?"

"Maybe throw a squirrel to intercept anyone that looks like they'll get in her way," Hermione suggested, holding up a large squirrel by the tail. "They seem to be pretty effective."

"...where did you get that?"

Hermione responded with an exasperated sigh. "Harry, have you look around the hall lately? There's squirrels everywhere. Literally everywhere. There isn't a two meter square area that is completely devoid of rodents in the entire room."

"Yeah, I know. I had Sis order them for me. I was asking where you got _that_ squirrel just now. You haven't been anywhere near one. They're all avoiding us."

"Oh, that," she said with a look of understanding. "I had him in my robes. I was saving him for later."

"You were keeping a squirrel in your robes just so you could throw it at someone later?"

"...yes. Yes, that's definitely why I had it. I was going to throw it at someone."

Harry gave her a weird look and inquired, "Mio? Were you going to eat that squirrel?"

"Probably," Hermione admitted. "Don't you dare judge me, Harry."

"Hey, I wasn't judging anyone."

"I can't help it. I look at an animal and all I can think is, 'I wonder what that tastes like.' I can't eat my weasels and this is the first thing I grabbed. It's not weird. It's a perfectly normal reaction. Human curiosity is what created the internet, modern medicine and let us reach the stars!" Hermione huffed.

"You're going to reach the stars by eating a squirrel…?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Ooh," Angel gasped. "I wanna reach the stars! Can I have some?"

"I'll have to find another one, but sure."

"And I'll share my racoon," Angel offered. "I'm pretty sure this one doesn't have the rabies!"

After a moment of thought Hermione nodded and said, "Okay, that sounds good. Do you want some Harry? We'll let you in on it if you can catch one of those ferrets."

"I'm good, thanks. Just because you're crazy doesn't mean I have to be," Harry muttred. He held up a jar of neon orange gelly and smiled at it. "Hey, it works on the orange flavor, too!"

"Should I point out the irony of you claiming to be saner than me, then happily producing a large amount of an unstable magical reagent that we know nothing about?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I caught it. Angel, peg Orchid with this," he ordered, tossing the jar to his familiar.

Without hesitation, Angel obeyed. The small container shot across the room at a truly impressive velocity. Just before it hit Orchid, the plant spirit reflexively opened herself up. Her vines immediately engulfed the projectile, completely covering it as her body reformed.

There was a loud splut noise. Orchid instantly became a large blob of orange foam.

"Wow. She going to be _pissed_ when she gets out of there," Hermione speculated.

Harry nodded and agreed, "Yup. Hopefully Nev's better by then. I'd feel a lot safer if he was sober enough to tell her not to eat us. At least we don't have to worry about her hurting anyone now."

"Except us."

"Except us."

"I think I like it better when we're endangering people that aren't us, Harry."

"Me too."

"Don't worry, My Boy. If she tries to noms you, I'll let her do the dirty things to me. She'll forget all about it."

Hermione nodded. "That settles it. If necessary, we simply sacrifice the cat's innocence. A small price to pay. Now we just have to do something about-"

A hurled owl slammed into her face, sending her sprawling back under the neighboring table.

"The sharktopus," Harry finished.

"It's like it's half octopus and half shark," Neville stated softly. He raised his arms and started wiggling them. "Oc-to-pus! Oc-to-pus! Shark-shark! Shark-shark! Octosharkl! Wait… that's not right..."

"Uh, wow," Harry muttered.

Neville spread his arms and announced, "The world is made of love! Everything is love! Everything is- _Fist_!" Without warning, he whirled around and slugged a passing narwal upside the skull.

The narwhal shook its head, then turned to look at Neville with confusion and hurt in its eyes.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry snuggums! I thought you were the leprechaun. Would a hug make you feel better?" Neville asked.

There was a brief pause, then the narwhal shrugged. It skated closer, reared up on its tail and spread its flippers. Giggling, Neville clambered of his seat and gave it a hug. After a moment the narwhal made a happy noise and closed its flippers around the boy.

"Hoy- _oh~_!" Neville screamed. He dug his fingers into the shocked narwhal, arching his back and lifting it into the air. The poor thing had barely enough time to shriek in fear before being completely annihilated by a brutal, ice-shattering suplex. "And that's what you get, Lucky! Your Lucky Charms are mine, you selfish, cereal-hoarding bitch!'

Harry, shock written all over his face, observed Neville as he broke out in a victory dance. It was _probably_ a victory dance. It was definitely a dance of some sort, but it was pretty hard to tell exactly what it was meant to be. To be honest, it looked very much like the sort of thing you'd see in a boy band's music video. It probably didn't help that a quartet of Alliderion backup dancers joined in shortly after he started.

"Right. Nev's on the 'don't piss off' list from now on," he declared.

A pair of half-naked sixth-years ran by, giggling hysterically. Each of them had several sissy wolves hanging from various parts of their bodies. The girl in front had an Alliderion standing proudly on her head, while the one in back was covered in rodents. She was so covered, in fact, that she couldn't see well enough to avoid the large, immobile table she was headed toward. There was a rather unpleasant noise as she ran into it, but it couldn't have hurt too bad considering the way she rolled across the surface and continued running the moment her feet hit the ground on the other side.

Hermione groaned as she slid back into her chair. "You're just figuring out getting the guy with a village-devouring familiar is a bad call? Good job on that, Harry. You're quick as lightning."

"Mio, he just suplexed a narwhal into unconsciousness," Harry said, pointing at the narwhal in question. "He just kind of yanked it into the air and slammed it down on the ice."

Hermione stared at the extremely large beast. It was probably a safe bet to say it weighed at least a ton. "What, the _whole_ narwhal?"

"No, Mio, just the tail," Harry said sarcastically. "Of course he did it to the whole narwhal. Does it look like the poor thing's in more than one piece?"

"It could be. All I have is a butter knife and my shears, so it would be pretty rough going. It might be worth it, though. I've never had narwhal before," she said happily, giving the narwhal an appraising look.

The animal's eyes shot open. With a frightened squeal, it shot off across the ice at a nearly impossible speed.

Hermione sighed. "You see what you did, Harry? You were distracting me, and now my snack got-"

A bird bullet impacted her face, knocking her violently over the back of her chair.

"You think you're funny?" she growled as she stood back up. "Why don't you see what happens if you do it again, you overgrown-"

An owl caught her straight in the gut, keeling her over. A second bird slammed into her forehead, snapping her back upright. It was quickly followed by a third, impacting beak-to-nose..

"It's evolved a burst-fire ballistic owl attack," Harry whispered. "God help us…"

"That - is - not - evolution! That is _not_ how it works! What the hell is wrong with you people?" Hermione screamed. She reached into her robes and whipped out her shears. Glaring at the sharktopus, she began stomping her way towards it. "Fine! If that's how you want it, then that's how you'll-"

Five owls slammed into her, rapid-fire style.

Harry watched in horror as the insensate which slid to a stop, her shears spinning across the ice beside her.

"The evolutionary process is accelerating! Soon there will be nothing on Earth that can stop it!" he gulped. "Is there no one that can save us!?"

There was a brief pause as he stood there expectantly, watching the chaos filling the hall.

"Uh… normally someone would show up to save us right there. Hehe… this is kind of awkward…" he giggled.

Neville finished his dance, running a hand dramatically down his side. The small group of squeeing first-, second- and third-years immediately dispersed, clutching signed pieces of parchment to their chests. The wizard wizard dropped into his chair, hung one arm across the back and carelessly swung his feet up on the table.

"Harry! Ha~rry~!" he sang. " _You're_ the hero, Harry! _You_ show up to save you! Us saves the day!"

Harry patted Neville on the head. "We're super _villains_ , remember? We'd have to save ourselves from ourselves."

"Oh. Harry. Do you know what, Harry? Do you know?"

"Do I know what, Nev?"

The boy leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, asked, "Do you know how to beat your meat?"

"What are you-"

"Suck it _down_!" Neville shouted. He punchated the last word by raising his legs, then slamming them back into the table. There was a squeal as his heels smashed an escaping piece of meat flat. "Meat-beater _punch_!"

"That… wasn't a punch, Nev. Not at all…"

Neville grabbed the pacified food and held it up triumphantly, singing, "Oh mystery meat, dear mystery meat. Did it go 'oink,' or did it go 'tweet?' It might be some beak, or maybe some feet. You're never quite sure, just what you might eat! 'Cuz sometimes it's sour, and sometimes it's sweet! Everyone loves this stuff because it's awesome, and tasty, and fun, and funny, and violates several known laws of biology and physics! _Surrender your juices, damn you! Give me your gooey protein_!"

A narwhal slammed into Neville, flipping him over the table and driving him to the floor. Harry watched with a shocked expression as the sharktopus lowered a pair of tentacles.

"So… at what point do we admit this is a little out of hand?" he wondered aloud.

Angel hummed and tilted her head. "Hmm, probably about twenty minutes ago, My Boy."

"I'm really starting to wonder if Professor McGonagall is actually going to do something about this…"

"We~ll, it's not like anyone's getting hurt."

A screaming Draco shot overhead, arcing through the air and slamming into the stone wall with a pained shriek.

"We~ll, it's not like anyone's getting maimed," Angel amended. "Ms. Nurse is gonna be re~ally busy, though. Maybe I should help."

"...help?" Harry asked warily, with a very obviously worried look on his face.

"Yup! Imma medic! I can cut the people up and put them back together again! Well, mostly anyway. Isn't it weird how whenever you put something together, you always have parts leftover?"

Harry sighed. "Angel? You're not allowed in the Hospital Wing, okay?"

"Yeah, that might be good. Peoples here might be different than they are in the Other Place. It's gonna be hard to tell without cuttin' someone inta bits," Angel reasoned. "I can put them back together after, but they won't really move so good. They won't move at all. And they won't be very good at keeping their blood inside their them, either."

"Angel? No cuttin' people inta bits."

A Hufflepuff shot by, covered in field mice. In fact, the mice were the only thing he was wearing. He gave them a friendly smile, tipping the large mouse on his head like it was a furry hat.

"Fine. Never let me have any fun," she muttered. Without looking, she raised a hand. There was a sharp crack as her open palm intercepted a thrown owl, stopping it short. Grumbling to herself, she brought it up to her face and sank her teeth into it. The owl screamed as its bodily fluids decided they had somewhere else to be.

"Why does every mail owl taste different?" Harry wondered as he wiped away the bloody chunks around his face.

Angel paused and stopped chewing long enough to say, "They're fake things, right? In the Other Place, magic that made the things like owls was re~ally easy to mess up. Even the little stuffs could make the owls all different."

"Really? How would you even know that?"

Angel casually batted an owl out of the air, carving the improvised weapon into a hunk of ruined meat. "Oh, I knew _lots_ of caster-peoples. They like to whine, 'cuz blastin' something with boomey magic is a lot harder than poking it with a stabby thing. You get knows about all kindsa stuff, even if you don't want to!"

There was a wet splat as the deflected owl hit something.

"Oh. Oops."

A ball of rodents surged, disgorging a particularly large narwal. Flitwick stood upon its back, holding a silver wand in one hand and the beast's horn in the other. The ruined owl slowly slid off his face and fell towards the ground. His narwhal mount tossed its spear into the air, quickly turned its head and devoured the bird, then caught the polearm again.

"Ha-ha!" Flitwick said in a boisterous tone. "You fancy yourself something of a fighter, do you? Very well! The owl has been thrown, and I accept your challenge. Have at you!"

The rodent ball swirled and tightened, then detonated. Small mammals flew in every direction, raining down on the heavily-drugged students. The blast was sufficient to toss the narwhal into the air, lobbing it towards the sharktopus.

The tentacled beast attempted to halt the charge by launching a volley of owls, but the tactic failed miserably. A few quick waves of Flitwick's silver wand caused the feathery projectiles to swerve aside well before hitting him. They slammed down into the ice like small meteors, creating small craters and splattering tripping students with owl-juice.

"That is your defense? Surely you jest! No foul beast has ever escaped my sight, and you won't be the first! My noble steed shall run you through, or my name isn't Hugh G. Tallywhacker!"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Wait. His name's really-"

A large tentacle slammed into the airborne assailants. Flitwick managed to leap into the air at the last moment, abandoning his 'noble steed' to its fate. There was a sharp crack as the massive appendage slammed into it. The blow was powerful enough send it clear across the hall, where it encountered a window that was - despite being widened earlier - still just a little too small.

Harry winced at the juice splat. "Oh. Nevermind. Poor noble steed."

The sharktopus roared, waving its tentacles in victory. Its celebration, however, was quite short. Although the narwhal had been dispatched, the true threat remained. Flitwick twisted gracefully through the air land on the hybrid's head. He quickly flipped around and wrapped its snout in a hug.

In an awed tone he sighed, "You face… it's beautiful!"

The sharktopus tried to look at him. It wore a quite clearly confused expression as it crossed its eyes.

"Your face… _give it to me_!" Flitwick demanded.

There was a brief pause, followed by the sharktopus opening its mouth and _screamed_ in horror. It quickly threw him off and turned to flee. Unfortunately for it, an inconsiderate stone wall had decided to occupy the space it wanted to pass through.

The sharktopus slammed into it with a splat, then slowly slid to the floor. The moment it hit, it splayed its tentacles out and began wiggling them. Squirming like caterpillars, they began sliding it across the room.

"Going _up_!" King screamed.

There was an explosion, a powerful geyser of white that sprayed up towards the ceiling. King launched out of the ice and slammed straight into it. The beast's eyes bulged as the young wizard hit. The blow threw his target straight up with an impressive amount of force. It made another unpleasant splat as it slammed into the unseen stones above the hall.

"Going down!" King declared. He plummeted back towards the floor and vanished into the ice.

The tentacled oddity peeled off the ceiling with a slurp and began falling back down towards the ice. It seemed, however, that fate was not quite done with the poor beast. Just before it hit the ice, three tanned fists slammed straight into its snout. It learned to fly yet again, traveling back across the hall like a giant, tentacled ping pong ball.

" _Yeah_! Git some! Wavin' around th' floppy meat don't do nothin' if it's attached ta a bigass pussy!" Sparkles jeered. "Ya gonna tap out, ya giant octopussy?"

The sharktopus screamed in response, using its tentacles to hurl itself back across the hall.

"Fuckin' _punch_ I"

Six sets of knuckles did their best to visible impressions on its skull. They were, for the most part, successful. The monster flew back the way it'd come, impacting the wall just to the side of the slime trail left after the previous impact.

McGonagall calmly sipped her tea. The purple smoke was kept at bay by a simple Bubblehead Charm, allowing her to carefully observe the chaos. This was going to look quite bad, but unfortunately she'd been ordered to do nothing unless necessary. Defending her students when they might suffer serious injury was clearly necessary, but as for the rest…

Well, one little sharktopus didn't seem like a pressing concern, so long as it wasn't actually hurting anyone.

Her smile widened slightly. James Potter had always been quite amusing, but this…

This was hilarious.

"Tell me, Albus. What was the devil's greatest trick?"

* * *

A/N:

So here's your mini-chapter, all 21,612 words of it. I originally meant for this to be 4,000 words, maybe 5,000 at most. Instead, it ended up being my longest chapter to date. I probably should have seen that coming. I probably should have split it up, but I promised myself I'd finish up October with this chapter. I always keep my promises, even if I have to blatantly cheat to do so.

While editing this, I came down with a serious case of what-the-fuck-did-I-just-write syndrome. It was always meant to be a bunch of silliness to make up for all the serious business last chapter, but I think it got a bit out of hand. Actually, I think it ended up being so absurdly bat-shit insane that it basically made up for every chapter until now that was a little light on crack. Considering I normally aim for around 7,500 words a chapter, you basically just read three full chapters of nothing but stupidly retarded and random humor.

Also, I very rarely manage to trim a chapter down to 7,500 and say what I want to. Ironically, they have a tendency to get longer everytime I try to edit or rewrite them for brevity.

So, we're starting up October next. That actually reminds me of something I meant to mention before. Unless otherwise noted, the scenes and events here occur in chronological order. Unless a specific date or amount of passed time is mentioned, it doesn't really matter exactly when they happen. You can usually get an idea just by context and the conversations people have, but don't worry if you're denser than Aunt Miriam's shitty gluten-free fruitcake. It's never _that_ important.

To that end, you're just kind of going to have to assume that things happened in the midterm. You know, the sort of stuff you'd expect to happen. Chaos, anarchy and fire for the most part. I really, really hate it when I feel like someone is wasting my time, so I really, really hate to be the perpetrator there. I don't really see any reason to spell every little thing out, especially when there's quicker ways to do it and _especially_ especially if it's something the reader can infer for themselves.

These are a little different, though. If you really want to waste your time reading these, it's not my job to save you from yourself. Go to an intervention or something.

So, as I mentioned above, we're heading towards December next. I'd like to say the plot will pick up and questions, assuming you have any, will be answered. If you don't have questions or really just don't care about the plot, that's great. It makes you really easy to please. For the seven people who are actually interested in the story part of the story, I promise I'll try my best to even out the pacing a bit. I also promise I'll do everything I can to help a sentient species of whale take over the world.

I'm thinking that second one might be a little more likely. We'll see, I guess.

Anyway, I don't really know when the next chapter will be. I pretty much just wrote _three_ chapters right here. Depending on my motivation and inspiration, I might work on Unheroic for a little bit. Of course, I might get some great ideas tomorrow and spend three-quarters of my day off working on this. It's kind of hard to tell sometimes.

Oh, and if you haven't given Unheroic a shot: get on that shit. If you asked for my completely unbiased opinion, I'd say it's awesome. It's also quite a bit more 'adult' than this. That word is in quotations because I mean fart jokes, dirty jokes and even more blatant sexual humor than you see here. It also has more serious overtones as well, being about racism, inequality and hypocracy of the highest degree.

Also, a shit-ton of gratuitous explosions. The serious stuff's the meat of it, though.

Just pretend I coughed in a poorly-executed attempt to conceal the word "bullshit," right here.

So, there's an encyclopedia thingy below this, if you care to read it. I tried to track down as much of the random crap as I could, but I probably missed at least one thing. Shit happens, I guess. The next couple will only have relatively new stuff, so this'll be the last full one for a bit.

There's also a few things I missed in prior chapters in there, and some things that you probably should've already figured out.

Oh, and check out the shiny new cover image! Behold the full extent of my shitty graphic arts skill! And speaking of shitty graphics, I'd greatly appreciate it if someone left me a review that was nothing but a ASCII penis. Seriously, do it. I asked people to in the first chapter of Unheroic, but no one did. I was pretty disappointed.

It's way past my bedtime, you've been subjected to my random thoughts enough and my warm milk is getting cold. So, see you next time.


	25. Dear Diary

.

,

.

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Chapter 25

"Dear Diary"

AKA

"Fucking Writer's Block"

* * *

If found, please return to Hermione Granger (Gryffindor)

Fred, if you read this, I'll kill you.

I'll kill you with fire.

I'm serious.

* * *

This is the first chance I've had to write in this for a while.

The adults, in their infinite wisdom, decided that it might be a bad idea for us to run around and sealed off about three-quarters of the castle. That included our tower, which was inconvenient to say the least, but was probably necessary. For some reason other people seem to have a lot more trouble with the various animals running rampant that we do.

I'd say It's nice to see them do something intelligent for a change, but I'm almost certain it was Prof. McGonagall that suggested it. It hardly seems fair to give everyone credit for it. It's too bad, because it might have made up for the fact that they're idiotic enough to be taken down by an eleven-year-old throwing blobs of jelly.

Not really, but it would be a start. Maybe.

They did manage to keep anyone from getting eaten, though. That's a really good thing, because I'd hate for Nev or Fred to go to prison just because a carnivorous creature they let loose in the castle ate some moron. Like it's their fault the idiot couldn't fend off an ice skating ninja narwhal.

Breaking them out would be annoying. I only have a couple of plans for that so far, and even those might not work. I'm pretty sure they will, though, since every one of them hinges on the people running the prison being morons.

I'd rather not waste them, though.

The adults have everything more or less under control now. To be honest, it's a lot more less and a lot less more. It's pretty safe to walk around in a group, but there's enough narwhals and Alliderions around that wandering the halls alone is a bad idea. Luckily, the narwhals still suck at eating kids and the Alliderions haven't quite figured out their leaping lunge doesn't work in the halls. It just sort of slams them into the ceiling, but it seems to be the only way they know how to attack. The only place the roof is high enough is the Great Hall, but that's the area where the most narwhals hang out.

Narwhals are a lot better at eating Alliderions than they are children.

* * *

I counted 107 different rodents during the course of the day today. The little buggers are all over the place. It seems like they did exactly what they were supposed to after Halloween: go and find a million and one places to hide. You can't go three steps without seeing one. Mammals of the Rodentia order seem to be the most common, but members of the Carnivora order - Mustela genus specifically - are pretty common as well.

They're more of an inconvenience than anything, and not even that for me. You have to watch your food and they merge into a wizard-swallowing doom ball if too many are in one area, but that's about it. We're still not real sure what's up with the ball thing, but it's hilarious to see someone get absorbed by one. It just sort of tosses them around until they grab something and pull themselves out or the ball breaks up on its own. It's good for a few bumps and scrapes, but that's it.

I think it's a pretty safe bet they won't get rid of our furry tenants for a while. Angel apparently likes having lots of "friends" around to play with, so her and Orchid have been giving some of them little creeper collars. She put out the word that anyone who eats one of them would be in for it, and I doubt there's many fuzzies here that will risk it.

She's basically securing herself a nice little breeding stock, which is surprisingly intelligent for her.

Amusingly, the castle still recognizes the collars as Orchid, and opens entrances to the familiar tunnels to anything wearing one. It took the walking treats all of 24 hours to realize this. I've already seen a collared beast opening an entrance for a gang of his uncollared brethren.

What the hell was that company teaching these things to do?

* * *

Our competent and incredibly useful staff finally figured out how to get rid of the ice today.

Oh, the ice. Did I mention that?

No, I didn't.

Harry followed through on that "favor" he owed the ice chick right after Halloween. I'm not sure how I feel about Fred pimping him out, especially since he doesn't know what's going on. Angel has a much clearer understanding, based on how she was looking at Fred. It brought up a rather worrying and uncomfortable subject.

I doubt Harry's family is going to do anything like mine did. He doesn't say much about them, but they don't seem like the type to give him The Talk. Seeing how Angel reacted, I was kind of hoping we could count on her to explain things. But when I asked her…

Her explanation confused me.

Either Mom didn't explain things well at all, sex works very different in the Other Place, or Angel is completely insane. I'm pretty sure people don't actually have the right parts to do half the things she was talking about. Then again, I don't even know if I've got it right, or if I completely misunderstood what she was trying to say. The parts I did understand made me blush far worse than when Mom talked about it.

She wasn't really happy about the whole "get Snow hot and bothered" plan Fred came up with. He sure seemed to appreciate it, though. I guess I can understand, considering the way she was squirming on the ice and that he's a huge pervert. Snow obviously enjoyed it too, and the… experience had the same effect as last time.

Fred's two feet of ice instantly became that weird white frost, plunging the castle into an ice age.

The halls weren't a frozen tundra for long. The staff managed to clear them out entirely today, so I guess they learned something from the last time this happened. It's pretty impressive, and shows a much longer attention span and memory than I gave most of them credit for.

The disappearance of the ice left the poor narwhals high and dry. They can't move through worked stone, it seems, and they're not all that good at walking. They looked so pathetic that I thought King was going to cry.

That's probably why he suggested the inline skates.

We're not really good at transfiguring the wheels yet, but the narwhals seem to like them. They certainly figured out what to do with them pretty quick after we left a few piles laying around.

The adults got pretty cocky after they managed to catch a couple of the beached beasts. I suppose they thought they'd have them all rounded up in no time. Given that the aquatic Saharan menaces are just as good at skating on dry land as they were the ice, I'd say they were wrong.

The staff was so busy chasing them around that busting into Filch's office and reclaiming the redehydrated narwhals was laughably simple.

* * *

We found that book Hagrid gave Nev months ago. No one's seen it in ages, and we've just been so preoccupied with other things. Even Nev had totally forgotten about it. If it hadn't happened to be in that Cho girl's robes when they mysteriously appeared among my things, we would have never thought about it again. It took several minutes and a great deal of thought, but Harry eventually told us that nineteen different people had owned it in the past two months, and that on at least one occasion we had all owned it in the same day. He's not 100% sure on that, since it's hard for him to keep track of things he didn't transfer on purpose, but if the number is inaccurate, it's because it's too low.

I didn't really pay much attention to it at the time, but I'm still kind of shocked that I didn't notice how tatty the thing is. Or maybe I did, but the memories were repressed as part of a cow-related traumatic experience. Either way, it's nasty. Just… nasty.

The parchment sheets it's written on were pretty cheap to begin with. They're not even all cut to the same size and shape, and some are definitely thicker than others. The whole thing is held together by three loops of old twine that act as a binding, at least one of which has needed replacing in the past. Even beyond that, the thing has clearly had a rough life. It's dirty as heck, with soil ground into it and an impressive array of stains on its pages.

Judging by the general look of the book, it seems like someone's journal. Given the that it has an actual title, it might be something more like the rough draft of a rough draft of a reference book. It's kind of hard to tell, though, because the whole idiotic thing is written in some kind of shorthand. I've seen both Gregg and Pitman shorthand before, and it's much too angular to be either of those. It must be one of the less common styles or, even worse, some sort of personal shorthand.

Deciphering it is going to be a massive task, and that's understating it by quite a bit. I'm pretty curious, though, so I'll probably at least look at it when I have a second.

* * *

The Alliderion population is getting a bit out of hand. They must either breed fast or the ones outside found a way into the castle, because there's just more and more of them. This is further complicated by the fact that they actually seem to be learning. They've figured out the narwhals have a hard time catching them in the halls, and some of them are realizing they can bite people.

* * *

Dear god, I wish Patravi and Lavender would just leave me the hell alone!

When I met them on the train, I was really upset that they seemed to get along so well. I was really hoping one of them would be my friend. My best friend, even. But since they hit it off so well, it seemed like that wasn't a possibility. I was so disappointed that I thought I was going to cry.

What the hell heck hell was I thinking!?

Ever since their makeup started vanishing - and what kind of eleven-year-old wears makeup? - they've been at each other's throats. I swear, not fifteen minutes goes by without me hearing one of them shriek like a harpy, and their familiars are even worse. Do you have any idea what it sounds like when a doe and a peacock scream at each other?

Not nice. Not nice at all.

Kara and Isabelle aren't ever in our rooms, aside from when they sleep. I wish that was an option for me. I'm not away from the boys for five minutes before one of them "just happens" to find me. It's pretty obvious they're looking for me, since both of them seem to have decided that I am, in fact, their best friend.

Despite my obviously ignoring them, whoever finds me insists on staying and distracting me with whatever insipid idiocy she's spouting. Then, when the other moron finds us, things only get worse. I go from listening to moronic yammerings about boys and fashion to hearing them fight. Again.

The worst part is that slamming them face-first into a stone wall does absolutely nothing to deter them. Nothing! They seem to have turned it into yet another stupid competition. Some kind of warped "she hurt me but we're still friends, aren't we so close?" stupidity. They practically beg me to hurt them. Like whoever I hurt worse is my best friend or something.

At least, I really hope that's why. The alternative makes me distinctly uncomfortable…

The boys scare the piss out of them, though. Harry especially, for some weird reason. He hasn't even set them on fire so far. Why would you be afraid of someone if they haven't even given you a friendly little scorching.

I'd say I should make sure to stick around them more, but I don't know if that's possible. It's pretty rare to not have at least one of them with me, unless I'm in the toilet.

Sometimes not even then, if you count Orchid and Angel.

I need to remember to check my bag more often.

* * *

Nev surprised us with something very interesting and amusing today.

A while back we noticed that most of the narwhals didn't leave the first floor. It's a pretty obvious problem, really. Despite being much smaller than a normal aquatic narwhal, some of the larger ones barely fit onto a stairwell, let alone have the ability to skate up it. They're pretty good at jumping and stuff, but they can't go nearly high enough to make it to the next floor.

Well, they couldn't, at least.

We've dubbed it the Magic-Assisted Narwhal Ascent System. It's a rune array that Nev came up with all on his own. I'd noticed him spending more time scribbling in his notebook than normal, which is saying something, but I had no idea he was working on this.

He got the idea from the conversation we had about seal-throwing stairs a while back. The MANAS is only triggered by narwhals, and applies an effect similar to a momentary Wingardium Leviosa. It literally throws the narwhals into the air. The effect isn't incredibly strong, but - coupled with their impressive jumping ability - it's enough to toss them up most flights of stairs.

The narwhals figured this out almost immediately. I'm honestly starting to wonder why people are frightened by dragons when there's apparently much worse things to be afraid of.

Now the narwhals have no problem going up staircases. Under normal circumstances, this would only last until someone found and scraped the array off the floor. Unfortunately for pretty much everyone but us, that's not very likely.

Sometimes Nev is evil enough that it kind of scares me.

He designed the array to go on the underside of the railings, not the floor.

* * *

Most of the animals don't really bother students anymore. Angel says it goes back to us making the skates for the narwhals.

Apparently the beasts are smart enough to know a good thing when they see it. Hogwarts is a much nicer environment then they're used to, and I'm certain being dehydrated and stuck on a shelf isn't a lot of fun. It's a hard fate to avoid if they're lacking mobility, so in order to ensure we continue to maintain and replace their skates, they decided not to piss us off.

A reasonable course of action, though I'm not sure why they'd think eating our classmates would upset us.

I guess the Sissy Wolves were more than happy to cooperate with the narwhals, especially when they were offered protection from the Alliderions. The two species have been actively hunting the nasty creatures since, with the Sissy Wolves baiting them and leading them straight into narwhal ambushes. They must taste a whole lot better than they look, considering that both narwhal and Sissy Wolves more or less leave the humans alone.

Oh, sure, the wolves chew on stragglers a bit and the narwhals chase them around, but it's more for fun than anything.

This is doing a pretty good job of keeping the Alliderion down to a reasonable number. I'm kind of glad for that. Even though their bones are hollow so they can jump high, making them crunch real good when you hit them with a strong Shoving Jinx, it does get old after a while. It was only really fun for the first several dozen, and now they're just an annoyance.

I do manage to get a rather interesting splatter sometimes. I had one the other day that looked like a clown. I think it did, at least. I didn't have time to get a good look at it before Harry screamed bloody murder and torched it.

Apparently clowns are one of the few things worse than a daisy.

Having dozens of carnivorous predators in the halls is probably a bad thing in general, I guess. I feel like it should bother me more than it does, but it's not really more than an inconvenience. They're starting to avoid me, anyway.

That's so weird.

* * *

One of the narwhals said something that really pissed Angel off today. I don't know exactly what it was. She was just muttering about them having an attitude and getting uppity, stomping around, and growling. I mean actually growling, by the way. I have no idea how she produces that sound, but it's pretty obvious her throat isn't structured quite like a human's. No person could ever make that noise.

I guess what it said - and it's still really weird to think of a narwhal talking - isn't really relevant. What's relevant is the fact that she was really, really mad. She was mad enough that she actually tracked down the biggest narwhal she could find and beat the ever-living piss out of it with the broad side of its own sword.

Well, technically she beat the piss out of it with two swords, four maces, three lances, six spears, a warhammer, two axes and a katana. It turns out narwhals have a tendency to break most things they're hit with. Regardless, she must have impressed the other monodons, because they were lining up to hand over their weapons by the end of it.

As a side note, Hogwarts apparently has a living set of Edo-era samurai armor wandering around. Who knew?

It kind of makes me wonder what's in all those places we can't get to. A good chunk of the castle is completely inaccessible.. There is are just blank walls at the end of any hall that should lead to them. You can't even get in from the outside. All the windows just lead to places we can already get into, no matter where it looks like they should be.

It's infuriating.

There must have been a lot more going on here at some point, because we only use somewhere between twenty-five and thirty percent of the castle. The exact number is hard to nail down, because the numbers don't seem to add up.

I have no doubt that it's because of some idiotic magic-thing that exists solely to give me a headache and a nosebleed.

* * *

I guess I can add "narwhal goddess" to my resume now.

Angel says it was a combination of things we did that triggered it. According to her, the narwhal gods - which is are a thing they have, apparently - are equal parts kind and cruel.

On one hand, we've made them skates, the MANAS, and new weapons since they've gotten here. On the other, I've tried to eat one a couple of times, Harry has set several on fire, King has punched a few through walls, George has tested a bunch of potions on them, and Fred has been riding them around dressed in full cowboy gear while screaming "yippie-kai-yay!" and twirling a lasso.

He's surprisingly good with that thing, by the way. You should have seen him loop Drico by the ankle, tie it to the narwhal's horn and ram a spur into its side.

Also, Nev's tried to lick their eyeballs more than once, chased several down to tie pretty bows on their horns and painted a rather crude picture on the side of at least one. All while he was higher than normal, of course.

So now the things pretty much do whatever we say. The Sissy Wolves too, for that matter. I guess they were converted to worship the Great Hornless Gods or something. The narwhals do make pretty good mounts, the Sissy Wolves are really soft and make good pillows or feet warmers, and they're both handy for smiting people with.

The beasts have even decided to bring us regular tributes. It would appear that there's a lot of weird things living in the Forbidden forest.

Most of them taste surprisingly good.

* * *

Mr. Moo Moo the Fourth died a horrific death today. It's a disgusting thing to see, but somehow watching it seems like the right thing to do. It's like paying our respects to the poor beast as Orchid tears it apart in the worst way imaginable.

Speaking of that, I have a sneaking suspicion that the damn plant actually aims for us. It seems like no matter what we do, she manages to coat us with warm cow slurry. We actually transfigured a small barrier (Professor McGonagall was more than happy to teach us the extra bit of magic) to protect us, but she somehow managed to get us anyway. It's a bit hard to believe that she somehow lobbed a chunk off still-twitching meat right over it on accident.

Getting hit with a meaty cow artillery shell is about as fun as it sounds. At least I was smart enough to keep my mouth closed. Harry hasn't quite learned that lesson.

It's strange, though. He doesn't seem nearly as bothered by it as he used to.

* * *

The strangest thing happened today.

While we were on our way to Charms class, we stumbled across a talking suit of armor. I didn't even know our armor could talk. As if that wasn't odd enough, it sounded exactly like Fred.

Of course, its claim that it was Fred immediately aroused my suspicions. I realize I haven't known Fred that long, but I like to think we're close. I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if he was a talking suit of armor. In fact, I'm quite certain he would have told us if he was a suit of armor, since he doesn't really have a filter between his mouth and brain.

He's probably stand in a girl's shower, looking all innocent and armor-y if he could.

The suit of armor tried hard to convince us it was Fred, of course. It even made up some cockemamy story about transfiguring the armor around himself. I suppose being wrapped in a metal prison to scare random first-years as they pass is the sort of thing Fred would do. But, I'm sure he would have told us if he was planning something like that. I mean, we're first-years, too. I'm sure Fred would realize laying in wait to scare us would be a bad idea. Fred certainly wouldn't be dumb enough forget enclosing himself in an iron casket would make it impossible to use his wand.

We left the armor behind, of course. Who knows what sort of mischief a suit of talking, lying armor that tries to impersonate people would get up to?

I regretted that decision a bit when Fred never showed up for dinner. Hopefully the armor didn't do something to him. I was going to have Harry set him on fire for being a pervert this morning, but I suddenly feel like forgiving him. After all, who knows how he might have suffered in the cold grip of that monster.

It worries me just thinking about it.

Or maybe I'm confusing worrying for smiling.

* * *

Hagrid didn't say much about the book. That he couldn't read it and that it belonged to a friend of his was about all we could get out of him. He seemed reluctant to talk about it, so we dropped the subject.

The red-brown stains on the pages suggest it wasn't pretty.

After we visited him, I had to go and track down another pair of weasels. I'm not sure what happened. How do you lose a couple of weasels? I've never heard of that happening to someone before. They're usually pretty content to nap in my robes, and always come back if they leave. They're obviously too happy with me to leave.

That's okay, though. It only took a couple of minutes to catch a few, since I enlisted Angel's help. She's a little weird and not that bright, but she can be pretty useful if she wants to.

Headwig seems to like the new pair at least as much as she did the last ones. She keeps cuddling up to them and giving them little nibbles on their ears. It's so cute.

* * *

The damn cat somehow "lost" two QCCS today. Her right index and middle finger are completely sheathless. It's pretty obvious she didn't actually lose them on accident. I mean, how do you lose something that's literally clamped to your hand? The bracelet is even made so she can't take it off herself.

The remains of the destroyed chains make it pretty clear she cut them off, but why? Why wouldn't she cut the rest off?

I was trying to some answers, but she got all whiney at Harry.

"My Boy, Mi'oh is being mean to me. Am I a bad kitty?"

A cat should not be able to put on the sad puppy eyes like that. Even King was looking at me like I'd done something wrong! And Harry, being the total pushover that he is, just told her she wasn't a bad kitty and everyone let the matter drop.

I swear Orchid was laughing at me every time the others turn away. It's strange that she appears to understand some things perfectly fine, while others just elude her despite being even simpler to grasp. I suppose it makes sense to a degree. She isn't a mammal, and isn't even - technically speaking - a corporeal being. The records I've found make her sound much more like Lady: a spirit inhabiting a physical object.

Who knows how someone like that would think? Her frame of reference would be completely foreign to our own. I'm pretty sure the things she does understand are more based on instinct than an actual thought process.

So King and I get to make a couple of new QCCS now. It's annoying, but I guess it's not a big deal. Heck, we might just replace them all. We had some ideas about how to make them open and close without her having to touch them that we wanted to try. It'd be nice if we could make them a little smaller, too, so I wouldn't have to listen to her complain about how they were "heavy and uncomfortable and icky" anymore.

* * *

Divinity tried to get all rapey with Angel today. It happens at least once a week, but I guess Mrs. Kitty had a bad day or something. She actually got pissed off enough to retaliate, despite the fact that Harry has asked her not to hurt people. She hurled the spirit right over Ravenclaw and pegged Snow with her.

It turned out to be a pretty good distraction, since the hit slammed the ice girl out of her seat and knocked her kimono open. The dumb spirit actually spent the rest of the day trying to grope her, despite the fact that she nearly froze her shiny little fingers off every time.

How strong is Angel, exactly? That was a pretty impressive throw.

Cats in general are capable of bursts of powerful speed or strength. There's a reason zoos have to put five-meter walls around their enclosures. If you assume Angel's body is still more like a cat's than a human's when she changes, which is a pretty safe assumption considering some of the noises she makes, she should have a much higher power to mass ratio than a normal witch.

That reminds me. The castle's walls are solid and strong, but they're full of windows and stuff. A lot of them aren't particularly high.

I'd better sharpen my shears again, just in case.

* * *

I can't find my weasels. Again.

How does a person manage to lose two sets of weasels in a few weeks? It just doesn't seem normal.

Headwig seems pretty upset, too. It's been a pretty bad week for her. First her weasel friends vanish, then she somehow manages to get her armor all dirty again. It took the better part of an hour to get all that crusty gunk off. Where in the world does she keep finding that stuff.

At least I've learned to use red cloths now. The stains don't really show up on them. I'll have to make sure Harry gets some more for me.

* * *

Ron's nasty-ass rat got into our dorm room again today.

I know he somehow managed to clean the thing off, but it's still nasty. It's fur is gross looking, its tail is clipped short, and the missing finger makes it look creepy.

I swear that thing watches us change. I see those beady little eyes on me all the time. Harry says it watches him a lot, too. The thing is some kind of magic pervert-rat or something.

I'd think it was like Angel, but human animagi are really, really rare. Plus, it's doing a pretty good job of hiding it if it is.

Gross thing. We'll have to find some way to "accidentally" set it on fire.

* * *

Harry ignited Fred seven times for various offences, George twice for trying to eat eggs, both of us while we were setting random potions supplies on fire, Neville - who was standing behind Fred - twice, Drico four times for being Drico, Pansy once in an attempt to eliminate her stench (it didn't work), Chew three times (that girl has a nasty habit of being in the wrong place), and both a large group of older Slytherins and the smaller group of Hufflepuffs standing too close to them.

Thirty-one people in a single week. That's a new record.

We also made a note not to set fire to Pansy again. While the grease makes her burn really good, it also seems to act as some sort of insulator. The girl barely notices that she's on fire.

Everyone else does, though.

That stuff does not smell good when it burns.

* * *

We've been brewing potions in the Common Room, especially Firehole Gelly. There's more than enough room, and Orchid can easily grow any iron wood tables or shelves we need. Between the fact that we have a very large stock of ingredients "donated" by are peers and the fact that Orchid can just grow a lot of the stuff we might need, we barely even had to leave. Our little alcove was conveniently close to the dorms, and completely ignored due to the SEP charm over it.

Well, almost completely ignored. Unfortunately, it looks like we're going to have to find another place to do it.

As it turns out, Perfect Prick Percy is familiar with both the SEP charm and Firehole Gelly. He finally noticed what we were doing, and he wasn't impressed at all. I guess it's kind of understandable, since the Gelly can go off like a napalm bomb and most people are pathetically unprepared to be on fire.

He did give us a few hours to clear out, and even said he wouldn't report it if we did. That was surprisingly nice of him, so I almost felt a little respect for him.

Then he started bollocking Fred and George.

I realize I don't have any siblings, but I can't even imagine talking to them the way he does. How could you possibly call your brothers disappointments and failures? How could you tell them they won't get anywhere in life for "fooling around," when they spend so much time and work so hard learning and experimenting?

The twins say that he, like practically everyone in their family, don't pay a whole lot of attention to what they're doing. I can't imagine having so much work overlooked and so much talent ignored in favor of being scolded for making a few eyeballs people lose an eyeball here and there.

How can people be so awful?

* * *

Fred pissed me off this morning, but he ran before I could properly punish him. I spent a good chunk of the day trying to track him down. I even sent a few hit discipline squads out to find him, but it was no good.

There's definitely something the twins aren't telling us. The castle's big, but we don't use most of it and there's only so many halls. I suppose he might have been hiding in a broom closet or unused classroom, but I think my narwhal and Sissy Wolf minions would find him. The Sissy Wolves

You know, that's really annoying to keep writing.

In my divine providence as a hornless goddess, I declare them Swolves from this day forth. Let all who defy me suffer my narwhal-fueled wrath.

I mean, I think I'll just tell the boys they're Swolves now.

Anyway, the Swolves have a pretty good sense of smell, and I'm sure they know his scent. There's no way he could hide. They also sometimes pop up in places they shouldn't be, coming from the wrong side of the hallway or ending up somewhere they could only have gotten if they passed us.

No matter how many times we ask, they just say it's a surprise and that we'll see eventually.

I guess I'll let it go for now.

So, when I finally caught red hair moving out of the corner of my eye, I just spun around and swung. I didn't want Fred to get away again, after all. Unfortunately, it was George, not his brother.

I think I heard something pop when I punched him.

For obvious reasons I didn't want to admit I'd mistaken him for Fred. So, I told him the first thing that came to mind.

I said I suffered an unnatural compulsion to hit anyone who steps on seventeen cracks while travelling north.

Yeah, I don't think he bought it.

* * *

So, George had been very careful to avoid cracks when we're headed for the north side of the castle. In retrospect, my excuse was exactly the kind of stupidity you'd expect around here.

I've been counting under my breath everytime he stops paying attention to where he's stepping, just to mess with him.

It seems like fair payback.

He's been hiding something from me, even more than he already was. I can tell, since it's surprisingly easy to tell when he and his brother are being cagey sometimes. Ri and Ru have been running around all over the place, and I've heard a few people complaining about supplies missing from their trunks. It's not uncommon for them to "borrow" things they want, but they're usually a lot more subtle about it.

What's worse, I'm pretty sure Harry and Neville are in on it too. I've seen a lot of swallows around lately, and I've seen Angel outside a few times. She's been lurking around the edges of the forest rather than playing in it. If she's doing something out there, it's a safe bet Orchid is as well.

Then again, maybe she isn't. It can be really hard to tell whether she's with Angel or Neville sometimes. It seems like it only takes her a minute or two to switch from one to the other, no matter how far apart they are.

* * *

That damn rat is pretty good at dodging spells.

I swear, it knows when we're getting ready to torch it. It isn't that surprising, I suppose. Most of the animal familiars are a lot smarter than they should be.

It wouldn't surprise me if it was smarter than Ron.

* * *

Had a breakthrough with the idiot book. Sort of.

Angel saw me looking at it, and started picking up patterns in the script like crazy. She found more in two minutes than I have in a week. She says her other language is 100x as idiotic complex, so it's easy.

The problem is that the linguistic structure she's used to is retarded completely different. I asked her about it, and ended up regretting it. Why would you start in the center of a page and read out? I guess it makes sense to have the core concepts in the middle, but the rest…

I ended up with a massive headache when she started going into detail on how things are read.

So, she can't write, read or convert the shorthand into something I can understand. She doesn't even understand it, because our written language is just as dumb to her as hers is to us.

Still, it's nice to have a bit of information. Now I have a much easier time picking out some of the recurring patterns. The book is like a massive cryptogram: the more patterns you can isolate, the easier the rest is. Unfortunately, this little tidbit is probably around 0.5% of the puzzle.

That's 0.5% more than I had, at least.

* * *

I got Lady to mess with the water in most of the toilets.

She can leave little tiny fragments of herself in liquids, animating them slightly. It's a lot like how Orchid can order plants around, but the bits of Lady are even dumber and fade faster. They can still follow very simple instructions for an hour or so, though.

"Go up as hard as you can when someone sits above you," is a pretty simple order. About 80% of our toilets suddenly acquired bidets. Of course, they were a lot closer to a firehose than a garden hose. But even if they're powerful enough to throw you right off the seat, it still counts.

King thought it was pretty good. "An excellent use of resources," he said. I guess we can use each other's familiars without penalty, as long as we convince them ourselves and don't go through their master. Considering how willing they generally are to cause mayhem, I don't think that's much of a restriction.

I wish Lady had told them to make an exception for me, though. I forgot elementals don't exactly have what we'd consider common sense.

It did not feel good.

* * *

The cat helped the fox sisters catch half the Swolves in the castle and dyed them to match the girls perfectly. Now there's black and white canines running around all over the place. Even though the foxes are way smaller, it can be pretty hard to spot them amongst the hordes. I'm not sure whether the plan came from the foxes or Angel, but it's pretty effective camouflage.

They dyed the other half eye-gouging shades of neon pink, green and yellow. It must have been some sort of magic dye, because the colors are far brighter than they should be. They somehow actually glow in the dark, despite not emitting light of any kind.

The colorful Swolves literally hurt to look at, and they aren't much more than blinding lines when they shoot across a hall in front of you. They leave streaks across your vision and everything.

* * *

The new Potions room was supposed to be opened tomorrow. They buried the hall in detection spells and various wards. They even put flame retardant charms all over the place. It's almost insulting that they thought that would be enough.

It took a while to get the mixture right. Everything I've read says it's extremely finicky. We ended up sending the twins (the furry ones) to steal ingredients from all over the place. Whoever designed the tunnels didn't have small, highly intelligent familiars in mind, because the little furballs can get everywhere. They stole ingredients from a third of the school to get what we needed. Then they stole the rest, just because they could.

So, I made my first pipe bomb.

It was an acid pipe bomb, to be more accurate. That bit came from King, surprisingly. We were trying to decide how big of a bomb it would take to destroy the place completely, and I think it make him nervous. Either way, it worked out.

Transfigured liquids are considered useless because you can't eat them safely or use them as ingredients or reagents in any kind of magic. Transfigured anything is like that, since the residual magic messes things up. They still have all the more mundane effects, however.

That means sulfuric acid still acts exactly like sulfuric acid should.

It wasn't until afterward that we realized dissolving the containers of a crapton of potion ingredients and adding a bunch of acid at the same time might not be a great idea.

The upside is that we'll be missing Charms, Potions and History of Magic tomorrow. I'm pretty sure it'll take them at least that long to get all the acid jelly stuff off the walls, floor and ceiling of the hallway. It looks pretty sticky, and it's eating through the stone as fast as Hogwarts can fix it.

It also seems worth noting that George was worryingly interested in the process of creating makeshift explosives. It would be worrying if I was anyone but me, at least. I'm pretty sure I don't have to be concerned about being on the wrong side of something like that.

I'm probably in more danger of being immolated by Harry.

Or myself.

* * *

With Christmas coming up, I have to admit I'm feeling a little worried. This is technically the first time I've had to get gifts for my friends, since it's technically the first time I've had friends to buy them for. I can't help but worry that they won't like them. What would I do then?

It's not like they'll stop liking me because because I got them a bad gift, right? I mean, we hurt each other for fun all the time. What's not liking your present compared to being set on fire?

I hope not…

* * *

A/N:

This one ended up being a little different than normal, obviously. It's the ultimate result of rewriting the chapter in completely different ways. That's why this took so long, by the way. I didn't like any of them and ended up scrapping every single one.

Basically, I suffered from a massive lack of motivation and inspiration. This took way longer than I wanted it too, and I didn't have any better luck with Unheroic or New Game Plus. I was just in a really major slump.

As far as the other two go, I have a couple of different directions I'd like to take them in. They are, of course, mutually exclusive. None of them seem to work quite right, so I'm stuck for the moment.

Part of the problem with SF was that I wanted to move right along to Christmas, but there was a couple of important bits I wanted to add. They're in there, by the way, though some are more obvious than others. This pretty heavily conflicted with my desire to not get sidetracked into a 20,000 word chapter filled with nothing but Giggledust-fueled narwhal duels.

So, I kind of wanted to sum things up a bit, but no one likes sitting there and reading a massive chapter full of infodump. I was already thinking of doing the occasional side chapter, including at least one from Hermione's journal. I decided to try it here, rather than a more typical narration, and I like to think it worked out pretty good.

Lots of this actually came from the scrapped chapters. Little pieces from many of them, stitched all together into something resembling a coherent whole.

We finally make it to Christmas in the next chapter. I've actually gotten a lot of work done for it already, so it'll be a much smaller gap between postings. I'm hoping that finishing it will help with the other two stories. If not, I'll just work on this until I'm inspired.

That's about it for the A/N. Sorry about the lack of incoherent rambling. I haven't been sleeping much, and my brain slows down a lot when I'm exhausted.

…

Is that really something I should be apologizing for?


	26. Blue Balls, Red Butt

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Something Familiar

Chapter 26

"Blue Balls, Red Ass"

AKA

"I'm (Hopefully) Back"

* * *

"Harry, you must understand. You simply _must_. What you've done here… it is something that has consequences beyond what you could possibly imagine!" Dumbledore declared, pacing around his office. "The full magnitude of it clearly escapes you. This is _exactly_ why you need someone trustworthy and competent to watch over you until you are old enough to make these decisions for yourself."

Harry didn't fight the urge to sigh. Normally he would have, simply out of respect for the fact that the headmaster was an adult, but that ship had sailed long ago.

Some of the things Vasia had written to him about had destroyed every shred of respect he had in the man. Anyone who would treat someone like family, who would treat them like a granddaughter and then just discard them because they married the "wrong" man wasn't worth his respect. The fact that he hadn't been getting the owls she sent further damaged his opinion of the old bastard.

Luckily, her swallows had no such difficulty.

It didn't really matter, anyway. Once the sanctimonious prick got going, he probably wouldn't notice anything Harry did, short of setting his beard on fire. The young wizard wasn't even sure he'd catch that, unless it occurred during one of the rare breaks during which he was supposed to reply. He was sorely tempted to try just that, but without witnesses to say he definitely didn't do it or a scapegoat to pin it on, he'd probably get in trouble for it.

So he just sat and tuned it out, eyes following the pacing should-be retiree as he walked back and forth behind his desk. He watched the old man warily, trying to ignore the way his gaze kept sliding up to the bastard's neck. That was a new - and slightly disturbing - habit that had popped up around his fifteenth cumulative hour this office over the past seven weeks.

Even if Sis hadn't told him anything about the man, Harry doubted he'd be comfortable around the headmaster. There was something in the back of his mind that had been studying him during all these lectures, watching him like a hawk. It didn't really come as a surprise to the boy that that part had fairly quickly marked the man as someone he couldn't trust.'

Everything he did, every word he spoke, it all suggested absolute concern, conviction, and sincerity. It was that very fact that made it reek of bullshit. Everyone, even the purest saint, had selfish motivations and uncertainty to one degree or another. Harry had been quite capable of picking up on that, even before he had suddenly been noticing people more. There wasn't a single person he'd ever seen that lacked those things, aside from Dumbledore. They were quite conspicuous in their absence, especially if half of what Vasia had said was true.

Somehow, the fact that she made no attempt to conceal the fact that she was benefiting from helping him made her seem quite a bit more trustworthy. That and the fact that she'd actually taken the time to sit down and talk to him, even going so far as to ask what he thought and how he felt about things. There was a degree of concern and consideration there that Albus clearly lacked.

Unfortunately, that same part of his mind that declared the headmaster untrustworthy had, apparently, decided the man was an actual threat to his well being. It was constantly telling him not to turn his back on him, which seemed reasonable. Given how he had reacted to Harry's room-with-a-moose-with-walnuts legitimacy defense, he probably wouldn't have done that anyway. It also said he should look for any weakness he could find, just in case he had to make the old man do a lot less living than he normally did. That seemed reasonable too, though he suspected most people might disagree.

The part where it told him to sink his teeth into the headmaster's neck, rip out his throat, dismember his corpse, and feed the pieces to the horrors in Hagrid's forest… that was a little much, even for him. He wasn't really sure where that was coming from, but it certainly wasn't a very nice part of his mind. It wasn't particularly practical either, especially if you considered how much Hermione complained everytime she had to spell blood out of someone's clothing.

He was also pretty sure he didn't know why she was keeping all that blood, but just kind of assumed it wasn't something he should be contributing to…

Sometimes she scared even him. Considering he set people on fire for fun, that was saying something.

"-and… Harry? Are you listening to me, Harry?"

Harry blinked, realizing that he was still staring at the bookshelf Dumbledore had been in front of five minutes ago. Sighing internally, he turned his head to meet the headmaster's slightly annoyed gaze.

Twelve minutes in, and he finally thought to get some sort of input. That was a new record.

It also meant…

 _Aha! The game is afoot! The plot is at hand! The ploy is… spleen'd. The ploy is spleen'd. The game is afoot, the plot is at hand and the ploy is spleen'd. You can't prove otherwise._

Convince the headmaster you're stark raving mad, round nine.

The headmaster has asked a question. Rule #1 is now in effect.

Begin.

Harry frowned, a thoughtful look on his face, and looked back at the headmaster. Nodding slowly, in a dead-serious voice he replied, "I like waffles."

Dumbledore paused. His mouth opened slightly, working silently as he processed the response. Finally, he asked, "You like… waffles?" in a thoroughly confused tone.

Nodding, Harry raised a hand as if making an important point and clarified, "I like waffles."

"Harry, what on Earth does that have to do with anything?"

"I like waffles."

Dumbledore sighed and looked at him regretfully. "Harry, your recent behavior has been erratic at best. This is beginning to concern me…"

 _If I'm found to be too unstable to make my own decisions, the fight for custody will be left entirely to you and Sis. If you somehow convinced me - or "convinced me" - to support you, it wouldn't do any good. Doing anything to me would be pointless, even if you did slip it by her._

Of course, the exact wording of the adoption contract limited the damage he could do, anyway. Vasia was nothing if not through, and had ensured a degree of protection against foul play with the inclusion of a fairly creative clause. The simplified version (and simplifying it was a minor feat, considering the actual thing covered half a page) was that not even he could annul her adoption. Not easily, at least.

Adoption contracts needed to have some sort of reasonable way for the family head to annul them in order to be magically airtight. Vasia had neatly fulfilled this condition in a very efficient and solid manner. The only way Harry could disown her was if he genuinely thought she was a liability to himself or their house.

Unfortunately, the headmaster had somehow gained access to the details of a very private document. Over Harry's past nine visits to his office, he had been doggedly trying to convince the young wizard she would do him harm simply by being related to him.

It was annoying to say the least.

Also, the headmaster has issued an open-ended statement. Rule #2 and #3 are now in effect.

"It's not a problem, sir. You should just let me be."

"I cannot do that," Albus sighed. "Someone has to look out for you. You need mature guidance, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, but Harry Potter thinks opinions on that vary."

Dumbledore frowned, clearly confused at the way he had referred to himself in the third person. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore it. It was a drop in the bucket compared to some of his recent behavior. "This is exactly why you cannot be trusted to make important decisions on your own."

"Sorry, Harry Potter thinks he'll be better off alone."

"You're wrong, Harry! You must see that. She is a dark witch from a dark family. She's just taking advantage of you."

The corner of Harry's eye twitched. Clenching his jaw slightly in annoyance, he contested, "Somehow Harry Potter doubts that that's true."

"You must trust me! Dark witches like her never have anything but their own interests at heart!"

Harry twitched again. "Don't treat her like some selfish tart…"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, Vasia Sana was my protege for a long while. She abandoned the Light and married into a Dark house for personal gain. Trust me, Harry, she studied under me long enough that I know her through and through."

"Why should I? Harry Potter knows her better than Harry Potter knows you," he said quietly. "She talked to him more in one day than you did in ten years, headmaster."

Rubbing his temples, Dumbledick groaned, "I've explained this, Harry. That was for your own protection. If anyone knew where you were, they would have come after your family."

"You seem a lot more concerned about them than you do me," Harry muttered. "And people _knew_ where Harry Potter was, Headmaster. He saw them. On the bus, on the street, and even a little down the road from Vernon's house. Harry Potter didn't know what they were, but Harry Potter does now."

"Harry, please don't be foolish. I'm certain you were imagining it-"

The word "it" has been spoken. Rule #4.

Almost before the word had left the headmaster's lips, Harry opened his mouth and screamed bloody murder. The sound was as loud and high-pitched as he managed, and probably come out just a few tones short of shattering glass. It was so sudden that the headmaster actually darted back and bumped into his own desk.

Harry closed his mouth and gave Albus a solemn look. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, then his eyes slowly narrowed into a glare. "Harry, I know what you're doing-"

 _Uh, you do? Really?_

"-but it-"

 _Oh, you don't, then._

Harry shrieked again. This time the headmaster had been half-expecting it, and managed to only flinch slightly.

"Harry, please stop it-"

Shriek.

"That's _enough_!" Albus roared.

Harry looked at him for a second, then giggled. "Wow, don't you sound tough."

"Harry, enough games. _Listen to me_!"

Requests have become demands. Rule #5: begin.

Nodding, Harry said, "Okay, Headmaster, Harry Potter thinks he sees. It seems important. Harry Potter will listen."

Albus subjected the boy to his unbelieving gaze, then slowly smiled. Now he was getting somewhere.

"Harry-"

Something slammed into his desk with a thud. Pausing, Dumblebore turned his eyes downward to examine the blue can in confusion. Harry smiled at him and deftly flicked it open with one hand.

"Chug."

Albus gave him a bewildered look. "What?"

"Chug, guzzle, drink, glut," Harry ordered. "Blue Stallion, then talky."

"Harry, I don't understand what-"

"Chug," Harry insisted. "Harry Potter doesn't talk to lightweights."

Sighing, Dumblewhore took the can. "Very well. If 'chugging' will get you to listen to reason…" Dumbledore muttered. He tilted the can back and pounded it, gagging slightly at the strong, chemical-laden flavor. "Dear Merlin! That's disgusting!"

Another can hit the desk.

Albus eyed it in horror. "You can't be serious."

"Harry Potter's not taking the piss," Harry giggled. "Chug. Chug the Blue Stallion. Get balls. Blue balls."

"Not the first time I've had those…" Albus muttered. He quickly choked down the second. "Now… urp… Harry-"

Thud.

"...no," Dumbledore declared, staring at the third can. "No, Harry, I'm drawing the line."

Harry shrugged. "If that's what you want to do, then fine. Twelve cans to a case. One case to be a real man. Harry Potter only talks to real men."

"You think you can sit in my office and issue an ultimatum?" Dumbledore demanded.

Harry glared back, arms folded across his chest. "Prices are important. We'll talk when you've paid 'um."

Dumbledore studied the boy, then sighed. "You will listen to me seriously once I've done what you want?"

Harry nodded. "Drink the Stallion, and I'll not ignore you nor taunt."

"Very well," Dumbledore groaned. He quickly pounded ten more energy drinks in quick succession. By the end he was gasping and wheezing. "By Merlin's bloody balls, I… I feel like I might die. What kind of fool drinks something that might cause them to die?"

"I love them, sir. I swear I don't lie."

"Fine. No accounting for bad taste. They might not be bad if they came in lemon drop, I suppose," he choked out. "Or… or not. Now, Harry, you promised. Surely you're ready to… My head… My head feels like it's vibrating. I… I swear I can hear my own skull buzzing. Or maybe I can feel it… Harry, this is normal, right?"

Harry nodded happily, then whipped out a can and guzzled it. Flipping it into the air, he caught it on one finger and spun it.

" _Blue Stallion amps you up and fills you with might. When you need instant energy, there's no choice better than Blue Stallion. That delicious stallion juice refreshes and energizes like no other. Blue Stallion. Drink it. Taste it. Love it. Grab life by the balls,_ " Harry intoned in a bizarrely deep voice. Flipping the can around, he crushed it in one hand. The aluminum container exploded into a cloud of shining metal motes that filled the office. They briefly formed the Blue Stallion logo before falling to the ground and vanishing.

"What… exactly was that? Did you just use wandless magic to make that can explode?" Albus hesitantly asked.

Harry shrugged and replied, "I like waffles."

"Is there a particular reason you keep saying that?" Albus asked in a very annoyed tone.

"I've been a bit bored since I sat."

"...are you rhyming with everything I say?"

"I like waffles."

"Harry, what in the-"

Harry suddenly leapt to his feet and screamed, " _Oh my god_!" as he pointed over Albus' shoulder and toward the back of the office.

Albus reflexively turned to look, frowning as he observed nothing but the back of his office. With an annoyed look on his face, he turned to face forward again. He began, "Harry, what is wrong with-" but trailed off.

Harry was sitting again, arms folded across his chest. The Sorting Hat was perched on his head.

"Why are you wearing the Sorting Hat?"

"I like waffles."

"Harry, _that - is - enough_!" the headmaster snapped.

"Hey, easy Albus. Calm down," the Sorting Hat soothed. "You're so wound up. It's been a while since I've seen you like this. You're just-" Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Snapping them open, he slid them onto the hat. "-brimming with enthusiasm."

Albus twitched visibly. "Why are _you_ involved in this?"

"..."

"..."

"What are you-"

"I am the queen of France!" Harry declared in a high-pitched voice.

"Wh-"

"Hoy-yo~!" Harry howled.

"Ahh~!" the Sorting Hat screamed.

"Yo~-"

"Ahh~-"

"-yo~-"

"-ahh~-"  
"-yo~-"

"-ahh~-"  
" _Enough_!" Dumbledore roared. "You will stop that this-"

A loud gurgle erupted from his abdomen. Albus made a disgusted and pained face as he clutched his gut.

"What in the…"

Harry giggled. "Play twelve times and you're sure to lose!" he whispered.

"H- h- h- Hat's all, folks!" the Hat added.

Another stab of pain caused Dumbledore to grab his stomach again and look down. When he looked up, both student and hat were nowhere to be seen.

"Okay, what the _hell_ is going on!? I-"

Albus suddenly gained 200 kilograms.

A deep rumble began from somewhere in his body, picking up volume and power.

* * *

Hermione winced as _substance_ erupted from the windows of the headmaster's office. Luckily, the narwhal that had caught Harry after he dove out of the tower was fast and agile enough to avoid the falling slime.

"You know, I could swear you said you got rid of all those," she muttered, looking over her shoulder at Fred.

The redhead shrugged. "I say a lot of things. Most of them aren't true."

"A fair point. You know what'll happen if you _ever_ use one of those on me, right?" she asked menacingly.

"I'm guessing I won't survive it…"

She grinned at him. "Oh, you'll survive it. I'll make _sure_ of that…"

Fred shuddered and took a step away from her. "Duly noted."

"Rhyme with every sentence, scream at the word 'it,' answer every question with 'I like waffles,' steal the Sorting Hat, twelve rounds of potion roulette, and a Brown Geyser Potion," Neville whispered. "Harry's a god…"

"Don't worry, Lord Nev. We don't worship false gods," George declared. "Alright, looks like Harry's clear. You sure you can nail the window?"

King looked down at the burning lump of plant matter he held. It was roughly the size of a softball, and made of some sort of moss Orchid had produced. Despite the brilliant blue flames engulfing it, he seemed to have no problem holding the green wad.

"I must say that I find your lack of faith in my abilities quite insulting," King replied.

"At exactly what point did you go from, 'We should behave and not bother people' to setting the headmaster on fire?" Hermione asked curiously.

King tossed the small fireball up and down, gauging its weight. "People deserve a chance to correct their behaviour. That time has passed. Besides, I find the headmaster's blatant attempts at manipulation very distasteful, and more than enough reason for an exception. You may wish to transfigure cover."

"Fictile nidum," Hermione muttered, drawing a broad stone surface from the ground even as King reared back.

"Fire in his hole," Fred whispered as his friend let the fireball fly.

* * *

A/N:

This was going to be part of next chapter, but I decided to post it as it is. I wanted to reassure anyone that cares that I'm still working on this, despite the abnormally long gap between chapters.

I'm an insomniac. Not the "I have trouble sleeping" type, but the actual "can't sleep at all without medication" sort. Without some sort of sedative, I can't sleep for three or four days at a time. Unfortunately, new FDA guidelines mean I can't get the full dose of sleeping pills that I need. I've mist a bunch of sleep, which kind of killed my creativity. Things are more or less sorted now, though.

Sob story over, next is Christmas time. Presents for all.

That's going to be just as bad as it sounds.


	27. And Then The World Unexploded?

I've got good news for all you people who like low-brow humor and narwhals.

After... time?

It wouldn't be hard to look up, but anyone who ignores my instructions to not read the author's notes can tell you I'm lazy.

I'm also occasionally occasionally drunk and / or sleep-deprived when I write this crap, but that's neither there or here.

Oh, look. I'm already getting off topic. There's a shock.

Anyway, after way-too-fucking-long, I'm finally actively writing again. That's kind of bad news, I guess, because it means you get to read this shit instead of learning the piano or something. I really suggest you take a long, hard look at your life decisions.

So, on topic again.

As I've mentioned in previous - and occasionally embarrassingly weepy - notes, I decided I'm going to rewrite this. While I like it and had a blast writing it, it's just not ending up where I wanted to go. Too much crack, not enough plot and glacial story progression. Some of the important pieces were there, but they weren't in quite the right order.

Who am I kidding. It was like they got hit by a hurricane, then set on fire. Then, once the fire went out, a moose took a shit on them.

Have you ever seen a moose drop its load? It's not pretty. That stuff comes out weighing more than most infants.

Right. So, I'm obviously back on track, as evidenced by my complete inability to stay on topic. Basically I'm on track because I'm off track.

Mind. Blown.

The first chapter of the rewrite is pretty much done. Despite my inability to write this note coherently, it actually came out quite well. I've pretty well hit the balance I originally wanted: a place from which the story can swing into crack or serious / dark as needed.

I'm pretty sure there's more plot in the first chapter of the rewrite than there was in the first five of this.

Being the incredibly kind author with saintly consideration that I am, I've made a lot of changes to the rewrite. I mean a **lot** of changes. Characters and plot elements have been altered, and things that hadn't happened yet in this are going to pop up much earlier in the rewrite. It's my attempt at keeping the new story fresh and interesting for everyone who already wasted however much time it took to read a quarter million words of idiocy.

Seriously. Piano.

The main plot is pretty much the same, which is okay. You never saw much of that to begin with. Some other things will stay the same as well. Unfortunately, you will run into some stuff you've already read, or something quite close to it. Despite the changes I've made, it **is** technically a rewrite.

Oh, you may have noticed I'm using **bold** to **emphasize** things now. Yeah, that's a thing that happened. It's a thing I picked up from working on Unheroic and New Game Plus, both of which have a lot of _unspoken dialogue_ in them. Using bold instead of italics allows me to separate them, and still _**emphasize**_ the things people aren't **saying** -saying.

Plus, fuck 'proper' writing. Seriously.

Speaking of New Game Plus and Unheroic, they're going to both be getting a face-lift as well. It might seem silly to rewrite a story that only has two chapters, but I think both of them could have been better than they are.

I'm also intermittently working on a fourth story, but you'll probably never see it. People have no fucking interest in original works, despite the voracity with which they devour fanfiction. Fanfiction-Unheroic was read more times in one week than it was during the six months it spent as an original story.

Voracity. That's a badass word.

As you're (for some reason) eagerly awaiting the rewrite, keep in mind that the crack is going to be both toned down and better paced. If you're here for that, you might be disappointed when you read the new version.

The two people who actually expressed an interest in the plot are going to be thrilled, though.

So, the first chapter of the rewrite will be posted once I'm done editing and adjusting it. Hopefully it won't be more than a week or so.

Within it you'll behold the wonders of a dirty alley, groundskeepers packing heat, a sexually threatening Malfoy, spilled merchandise that completely destroys a plan years in the making, at least two plots (as in people plotting, not the type of plot I'm allergic to), and the secret behind vulgar goblins.

It'd say look forward to it, but you probably wouldn't be reading this if you weren't already.


	28. Rewrite

You might notice the name here changed.

The first chapter of the rewrite is up, and it stole it.

This will remain up as a testament to how fucked up my brain is.

Go read the rewrite.


End file.
